To Wilt or to Grow
by tell.them.no
Summary: The War is over and the Eighth Years return for one final year at Hogwarts. In the aftermath of the Dark Lord's fall, the Slytherin house has fallen on hard times. Draco Malfoy is left with the question of what to with the rest of his life. Maybe Neville can help him find the answers. HP/DM slash, featuring a lot of herbology loving!Neville and OCD gardening!Draco. Draco-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything really. I am _obviously_ not Rowling, and this is _obviously _not for profit. All this is just for my own fun. Also, the lyrics are not mine either, they're Matthew West's "Family Tree".

**Authors Note: **This... is going to be a very long story. Actually, it may even become three long stories. It will be **SLAAAAASH**. If you're not a fan, you have been warned ;). Also... it will, eventually, be slash of the Harry/Draco variety. I'm giving that away so anyone who reads this can calmly make the decision whether to read it or not.

I'm not certain I'll ever actually write any hard sex scenes, because I think I'm a bit of an anxious and nervous person and I feel I may royally screw it up.

Now, please enjoy my little tale.

* * *

_You didn't ask for this_

_Nobody ever would_

_Caught in the middle of this dysfunction_

His eyes remained transfixed on the mounds of earth surrounding the rosebush. Beneath the sweating, blue petals and thorny branches, tall, a tall dark weed had begun to grow. He imagined it for a moment. The feeling of being suffocated, drained of all life, for the purpose of an others growth. His hand came up to pull at his pale fringe in an anxious gesture.

When Pansy pushed at him gently, Draco nearly passed out at being disturbed from the mounting pressure of his anxiety.

"Are you feeling well, Draco?" she asked, worry clouding over dark eyes, "You didn't even react when Mcgonagall dismissed us."

He was breathless, and his arms felt hollow. The blond managed a small smile anyway.

"I'm fine, Pans. I swear," he told her, trying his best to erase the hint of unease that threatened to give his emotions away.

Her dark eyebrows fell together. Beside her, a dark arm reached out to feel his forehead. Draco held himself back from swatting the offending appendage away.

"Calm down, Pansy," Blaise scolded, "his temperature is normal. He'll live."

Draco ignored Pansy's vehement retort and Blaise's neutral tone in favour of collecting his belongings. The three hurried out the door, down to the Great Hall for lunch.

While the argument between his two friends carried on over winding steps and passing archways, Draco found himself back with the roses. He tried to ignore the thoughts but he kept thinking and thinking of how they lay there, choking and sweating and slowly dying. He thought and thought about how they would die, and that would be it. They would no longer bloom and they would no longer give off their perfume to the bees. Instead some thick, gangly, clingy weeds would grow. _Death for life._

Draco's thoughts finally gave way to reality as he crashed in to something tall and fleshy.

He barely heard Pansy's scared murmur of _Draco_ or the arrogant, self-righteous huff of _Ferret! _When his eyes lifted and he stared straight in to green.

_Like the bush, _Draco thought absently, _or like the weeds._

He pushed himself away, and nearly tripped when he ran towards the doors leading outside. He ran without taking note of Pansy's worried calls, or Blaise's angry tone, or Weasley's guffaws. He didn't care for Potter's bewildered look.

Draco ran until he was outside, and then ran down the slope towards the gardens.

He stopped in front of the roses, and stared.

Slowly, Draco knelt to the ground. His knees squelched in the damp earth, and his eyes found the stems of the weeds. The blond reached forward, softly grabbing the weed around it's stem and pulled.

It gave, roots and all.

He smiled.

"Malfoy?" a gentle voice came from behind him.

He whirled around quickly, smile vanishing and replaced in one instant with his usual icy glare. Gone was the anxiety threatening to strangle him. In turn, his sense of self came back to him with a resounding crash of reality.

"What is it, _Lardbottom_?" he flung venomously at the Gryffindor.

Longbottom made his way towards Draco cautiously. His dark brown eyes taking in the scene before him. The blonde narrowed his grey eyes and peered down his nose haughtily at the other boy, his stance threatening and tense.

When Longbottom finally reached Draco, he knelt slowly to the ground. The brunette eyed the weed still clutched tightly in Draco's fist.

"Tell me, Malfoy, did the weed offend you?" Longbottom asked, cautiously but not without a trace humour.

Draco felt his face warm suddenly. Longbottom snickered lightly.

"I-I'll have you know that I was simply _collecting_ this _weed _for a potion I'm to make later this week and-"

"Look, Malfoy, I understand," Longbottom interrupted, smiling all the while, "weeds offend me too. How dare they try to steal the place of far prettier plants?"

Draco lowered his eyes to look at the aforementioned offender still clutched tightly in his hand. It was green, prickly, and utterly distasteful. He could do nothing but agree with Longbottom on that count. Not to his face, however, because then he'd seem...soft_._

"Whatever you say, _Lard_-bottom," he spat, "I couldn't care less for the... _prettiness _of plants. If they have no use, then I see no point in their existence."

The blonds attempt at covering up his apparently psychotic urge to save the rosebush did little to darken Longbottoms increasingly warming brown eyes. A smile was slowly creeping over Longbottom's face.

Draco scowled, pushed himself up, pocketed the weed, and glared at the other boy. Longbottom did nothing but hum and begin to gently feel the petals of the rose closest to himself. The Slytherin brushed his trousers off, and sauntered away.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"I don't understand, Draco!" Pansy shrieked, "Why, in the name of Merlin, did you feel the need to run off like a madman?"

Draco scowled. _It's not like it even matters, _he thought. He did not, however, interrupt the raving Slytherin.

"You left us there with those bloody-bloody..."

"Saviours of the Wizarding World?" Blaise added helpfully. Draco snorted.

"Shut it! And snorting is unbecoming of you-you... Ferret-face psycho!" Pansy was turning an odd shade of purple now, "We had to try to save face while you went ... to what? Roll in the mud?"

Draco sighed, eyes turning slowly to the mildewy cobblestone of the dungeon ceiling.

"Save whose faces?" Draco asked her, softly, "The former Deatheater and his sympathizers faces? Surely theirs aren't faces worth saving."

Blaise clucked his tongue. The blond returned his gaze to the girl in front of him.

Pansy's face had paled considerably. Her eyes widened for a split second, before welling with tears.

"Stupid!" She shrieked, before running off to her room.

Draco watched her go, feeling his face pink with shame. He hadn't mean't for her to be hurt by it. But...

_It's the truth._

"You never did have any tact, but now..." Blaise peered at him through lowered lids, "Now you've simply become an arse."

"Blaise?" Draco's gentle tone denied the sudden threatening atmosphere that surrounded the blonde.

"Yes, Draco?" the other Slytherin answered, somewhat confused. The blond's eyes narrowed threateningly, his mouth slowly turning in to a sneer.

"Go fetch me some biscuits from the kitchens," he unquestionably commanded, "do not return until you've found my favourites."

Zabini's adam's apple bobbed up and down as he realized the threat laced within the other Slytherin's dismissal. He quickly jumped up and made a beeline for the Slytherin entrance. Draco smirked as his friend nearly tripped over a large cobblestone.

"At least I still inspire some fear," Draco murmured.

"Yeah," Vincent Crabbe agreed in an empty voice.

Draco turned his focus to the silent boy beside him. He'd barely realised the other was in the room. Vincent's eyes were staring up, vacantly. His mouth was slightly open and his breath was coming in and out heavily, yet he made no sound. His skin was paler than Draco's own, and he had lost a few pounds since the beginning of the year. The blonds eyes lowered thoughtfully.

Draco shifted a little, so he could reach in to his pocket. The weed was still there.

_Such a horrible thing, _the Malfoy heir thought, mildly disgusted, _I wonder..._

_~~~Wilting~~~_

He roved gently between the bookcases. The pads of his fingers lightly skimming the titles. _Winnona's Wicked Weeds, Weeding with Wilfred, When the Weird Weeds Wilt, _he pulled from their homes. The blond slung them under his arm with a little difficulty due to their weight. He made his way to the back of the library.

Draco seated himself at a table near a window. The small wooden table was located far in the back of the library. It was glowing softly in the light, covered in a layer of dust from disuse. Here, behind rows and rows of bookcases, he was hidden.

He cast a quick cleaning charm. Relaxing in to his seat, Draco gently pulled the weed from his pocket. He examined it thoughtfully. _Green, a deep green. _Draco traced the stem gently. A sudden pain sprouted at his fingertip. The Slytherin pulled his finger back and watched as tiny rivulets of blood dripped from his finger on to the table.

_Sharp, incredibly sharp. _

He cast a quick healing charm before opening _Weeding with Wilfred_. The blond rummaged through the tome in search of the weed he had in his possession.

_Deep green, incredibly sharp._

He paused at page 509. There it was! A slow smile of victory broke over his face. It was an uncontrolled thing, simply blooming in the warmth of the sun.

_The Caedes Cornix is a variety of plant that grows in tandem with the Blue Rosebush known as the Risum de Cornix (see Botanical Beauties p.1029). It evolved as a parasite from it's ancestor, the common_ _Venini Radicis, a few generations after the creation of the Blue Rosebush. Caedes Cornix grows by latching itself in to the roots of the Risum de Cornix, slowly tangling itself in the very fragile roots of the Rosebush, until it's able to fully imbed its own roots to the more delicate ones. Once fully entwined, the once normal sized weed can no longer be removed without magical aid. If left to its own devices, the Caedes Cornix will quickly overtake the Blue Rosebush, robbing it of all its nutrients until it is nothing more than deadheads. Many Herbologists grow the Risum de Cornix with the intention of allowing the Caedes Cornix to thrive. While the Blue Rosebush is beautiful, it is essentially useless. The Caedes Cornix, however, has many uses, and is especially versatile, as it is used in a plethora of Potions ranging from Healing to Dark as its leaves and roots are perfect for balancing..._

Draco's smile had long vanished.

_Beautiful, but essentially useless._

_~~~Wilting~~~_

The essay he had written on the effects of Rowan in Healing Draughts burnt slowly. The flames seemed to consume it with slow gluttony. His legs shook in terror. He lowered himself to the ground before the flames, almost with reverence.

But _Merlin_ it was hot. The heat rolled off the parchment as it burned, warming his face. He wouldn't be able to _save it. He could never save it. He could never save-the fire-oh it burned hot-it boiled-when Goyle had-Goyle was-_

Somewhere, someone was pulling him away from the flame. Pansy was yelling.

"Get him away from it, Merlin, Draco get-"

"Draco, c'mon mate, Draco listen, it's just-"

"Malfoy, bloody hell, don't touch-"

Vincent was crying.

Suddenly there was a whoosh. The flame steamed as the Aguamenti doused it just as his fingers prodded the parchment.

"Merlin, Malfoy, what were you thinking? You could've burnt yourself," Longbottom was drawn up, pale in the candlelight of the dungeons. Oh, but they didn't understand.

Draco looked up at the Gryffindor.

"I...it was my only copy," he told the boy-no, man. Hero.

Longbottom's eyes narrowed, he glanced about. His soft, brown hair swinging belatedly as he swiveled around to face their other classmates.

"Who did this? How could anyone think _setting a fire_ would be a smart idea?" Longbottom was raging. When had he become so confident as to face their peers with such justice-induced rage?

_The war, moron._

Right.

Pansy knelt beside him. Her face pale, her hand shaking as she reached for his burnt essay.

"Oh Draco, it's ruined," her dark eyes were large and wet with pity.

"Oh," Draco replied. It had taken a long time to write. He was very passionate about potions, wasn't he? Instead of outrage, all the Slytherin felt was numb.

Blaise knelt beside his two friends. His dark features were twisted in to a terribly rage. He too trembled, but not with fear. Draco silenced any ensuing yelling the other may attempt with a hand to his friends arm. Blaise's eyes flashed up to meet his. Draco shook his head. Longbottom was still yelling at the rest of their classmates.

'What's going on?" Harry Potter asked as he arrived, late to the spectacle, "Why's Malfoy on-"

"Harry, mate, someone's set Malfoy's essay on fire," Weasley filled him in, "he was trying to touch it and Neville had to put it out before-"

"Shut it," Pansy hissed at the redhead, "it's none of your bloody business!"

"For all we know, it was you who set the damn fire!" Blaise shrieked at Weasley as he stood to glare at the Golden triumvirate. Weasley looked affronted.

"Why in the name of Merlin's white arse would I do that?"

"Ron would never stoop to that level!" Granger piped up, "He's not like that and you know it, Zabini!"

"Why would you even-" Potter was beginning to say.

Draco's focus on the argument shifted as Longbottom nudged his arm with his own leg. The Gryffindor stood, looking down with determination, hand held out to Draco. Draco looked at the offending offering before sighing and taking the hand.

As he was helped up the door to the Potion's classroom finally opened, and Slughorn stood eyeing up the situation. The class froze.

"Twenty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor both," the old coot said, as he finished assessing the lot of them, "Also, Mr. Malfoy, when class is over, come see me in my office."

_~~~Wilting~~~_

"Mr. Malfoy, I was under the impression, due to the notes of my predecessor-"

"You mean, Severus Snape?" Draco cut in, staring beyond Slughorn at the damp wall of the Potions professor's office.

"Yes," Slughorn corrected, "professor Snape, forgive me. You have my condolences. I understand the two you were...close?"

Draco shrugged noncommittally, eyes trained on the stone of the wall. _He was only my Godfather._

"Yes, well," the Potion Master coughed, "he quite clearly states that you have always held a kind of, affinity, no, _passion_ for the fine art of brewing. He also states your skill level is high enough to back it up."

Draco shrugged again, still examining the wall. Slughorn cleared his throat again.

"Well, then, Mr. Malfoy, please do explain to me how it is you've failed to hand in three essays to date," Slughorn's voice held a tick of irritation.

Draco's eyes roved upwards to examine the tapestry that hung from the ceiling of the office.

"Severus," Draco started, "would never have hung such a dreadful travesty from his ceiling. He was quite proud of his minimalist lifestyle."

Draco finally turned his gaze to the professor seated before him. He leaned forward.

"I think," he whispered conspiratorially, "that he lived his life simply and without distraction because he thoroughly enjoyed the idea of being a _martyr _for the _fine art of brewing_."

Slughorn paled, before flushing a deep maroon.

"Mr. Malfoy, please answer the question!"

Draco yawned.

"I completed them, your abysmally boring essays," Draco explained, "but they've all mysteriously disappeared, or, as you've seen today, been destroyed. If you'd like, I could just give you an oral recount of the _Properties of Phoenix Feathers, _or perhaps, you'd better enjoy an actual brewing of the Draught of the Living Dead? No? How about a few love potion's of actual high calibre. Unlike the cheap ones you can get off Knockturn for a knut."

Slughorn sighed. He rubbed his temples with his fingers.

"I thought as much," Slughorn said tiredly, "you're not the only one either. It seems my House keeps mysteriously losing their property. But ... that's neither here nor there, I would like to offer you an alternative, a way to make up your lost marks."

"And this alternative would be?" Draco eyed the tired man warily.

"I would like for you to work as my assistant throughout the year," Slughorn said, "I will assess how you work and your marks shall be made according to your effort and skill. Then, when you take your NEWTs, and with the high probability of full marks, you shall have completed your course workload as well."

Draco stared at the man. If he hadn't suffered years of etiquette training, he would probably have been gaping like a fish.

"Why do this?" the blonde questioned, having collected himself, "What is the point of doing this for me?" _What's in it for you?_

Slughorn eyed the boy with something akin to pity.

"Do I take this as a yes?"

Draco looked at the man, and sighed again.

"I don't really have a choice now, do I?"

_~~~Wilting~~~_

Theodore's eye was an angry purple and blue. His lip was split and his robe torn near his left sleeve, displaying a bloody scar. He was trying to sit as still as he possibly could as Pansy dabbed the cuts clean. She would cast some healing spells after she was sure there would be no danger of infection. Always thinking ahead, that Pansy.

Blaise paced the center of the common room like a caged animal. His dark eyes were storming with rage. His hands were shaking, his breath coming in raggedly.

"It could've been worse," Theodore Nott tried to calm the other Slytherin.

Blaise stopped pacing, and faced the other Slytherin.

"How?!" Blaise screeched, "Please explain to me how exactly any of this could be worse? How we can't even hand in assignments-can't even walk around by ourselves. The war is over and we can't even feel safe!"

"It could've been one of the First Years," Theodore interjected softly, "they could've actually tried to kill me. They could've-"

"Tsk, that's enough Theo," Pansy said softly, "Blaise understands. Stop talking or you'll make the cut worse."

Blaise lowered himself shakily next to Draco on the sofa. The blonde's gaze was caught in the fireplace. He seemed to be entirely unaware of his surroundings.

"Draco, what are we going to do?" he asked the blonde, "It's not getting any better. The younger Slytherins get bullied just as much. They're kids Draco. And us? We're nothing anymore. We can't even walk outside without being spit on, or worse." Blaise motioned towards Theodore.

Draco turned from the fire to gaze at his bloody peer. He could barely stand it.

_Blood, it's all that matters. Blood and bones. But it's all ash eventually._

"Blaise, take Pansy to her room," he told Zabini, who looked about to contradict him, "Don't worry. I'll see to Nott."

Blaise glanced back at Pansy. Her face was ashen and her fingers trembled. She could barely keep back her tears. Blaise nodded to Draco, and stood. He walked towards the girl, gently removed the clothe from her hand, all the while mumbling soothing words.

When they left, Draco stood and made his way to the other boy. Theodore glanced up at him and smiled brokenly. The cut on his lip stretched painfully, tearing more skin.

"You look like shit, Draco," Theodore informed him with a dry humour. Draco laughed softly.

"Sorry, I've not any reason to do myself up anymore," he informed the beaten and bruised Slytherin.

Theodore chanced a slight touch of his hand to Draco's wrist as it came up to wipe away the new blood coming from Theo's lip. His fingers gently drew the hand away from his lip, to rest at the side of his face. Draco's eyes shifted from the broken lip to the left ear.

"You don't look at me anymore," Theodore whispered, "you don't look at any of us."

"I can't. It's ... we're not..." Draco glanced towards the fire again, "We're not ... complete anymore, Theo."

Theodore's lids fell shut. Too heavy to keep them open in the crushing weight of silence. Neither spoke another word as Draco finished his healing. _His absence was too loud._

He stood in front of the Blue Rosebush once again, eyeing the ghastly Caedes Cornix that had sprouted in little over two days. This one wasn't nearly as tall as the last had been, but it seemed to grow even as he observed it. Draco was shocked by its persistence.

_How disgusting, _he thought, as he eyed the tango the Caedes Cornix seemed to be doing with the Risum de Cornix. The delicate, blue petals of the rosebush were utterly violated by the presence of the weed. Draco knelt to the ground before it.

Just as he reached out his hand, he heard a gentle voice behind him.

"Malfoy," Neville Longbottom began, "if you're going to be using the Caedes Cornix for a potion, you'd best wait for it to fully overtake the roses. They need to wilt before the weed can be of any use to you."

Draco's hand stilled and rested on top of the weed. His head whipped around to glare at the Gryffindor.

"What, are you stalking me now? I'll have you know, I'm working as-" Longbottom's hand came up to silence the blonde.

"Yeah, I heard," Longbottom said with a rueful smile, "Sprout's got me working as her assistant. She and Slughorn get on well enough. Tell's her everything, that one. Still doesn't explain why Slughorn would need a useless plant."

Draco eyed the other warily. His fingers tightened on the weed, grasping the sharp stem as he felt the tiny prickles cut open his fingers. He pulled it up, out of the ground, smoothly. Neville's smile grew.

"Smug," Draco noted. Neville shrugged carelessly, hands lowering in to the pockets of his denims. _Muggle, _Draco thought condescendingly at the other.

"Maybe," the Gryffindor conceded. Draco rolled his eyes and drew his wand. He cast an incendio on the Caedes Cornix, then picked himself up off the ground. Once on his feet, he noted with some resentment that the Gryffindork had somehow grown taller than him.

"Whatever, you overgrown freak," Draco spat out, scathingly, "I don't have time for this."

"Doubt that. If you've enough time to garden," he ignored Draco's protests, "you've enough time to grab a pint with me."

Draco scoffed at that.

"I wasn't _gardening_," Draco argued. Neville laughed.

"Oh, really? Malfoy, from where I'm standing it certainly-"

"It doesn't matter!" Draco interrupted, "I don't have time to _grab a pint._ I'll never have the time. Not for the likes of you."

Neville sighed, walked a few paces forward until he was looming over the blonde, and swiftly snatched Draco's wand. Draco stood, eyes wide and utterly shellshocked. He flushed angrily and snarled, lunging at the other.

"Ah, ah, ah," Neville grinned, "enough of that. It's my hostage now. I'll give it back if you come with me. And behave, or at the very least, try."

Draco stomped his foot. He balled his hands up in to fists in his frustration. Eyeing the other. _Fucking Gryffindor persistence. Fucking Lardbottom. Fucking saviours. Fucking heroes._

"... Fine," Draco spat out, "lead the way, _Lardbottom._"

* * *

Well, there's the first chapter. Not much of a cliffhanger. Hope you enjoyed. Read and review please. :)

~_Pip_.


	2. Chapter 2

******Disclaimer**: I don't own anything really. I am _obviously_ not Rowling, and this is _obviously _not for profit. All this is just for my own fun. Also, the lyrics are not mine either, they're Matthew West's "Family Tree".

**Belldandy55555: **Yeah, I know. It's really hard for me to write how far the Slytherins have fallen. Also, Neville is one persistent dork, trust me on that one :) Thanks for reviewing!

**Death'sAngel18: **Haha, I have a lot of free time, so my updates until september will be pretty quick. THank you so much for your kind words. I knoooow, so much friggen angst, and it's not much better in this chapter either. *blushes* you're very sweet.

**AstrisDreams: **erm, let me begin by saying again, I have no idea if I'll actually write any heavy sexual scenes. However, the way I write, is from Draco's perspective. Seeing as this is going to be a long fic, it's going to be a while before Harry and Draco get together. However, I mostly read bottom!Draco fics, so he'll come off that way, I suppose. Although, I don't want Draco to be weak; I want him to grow and become strong. If there ever will be a sex scene, it'll be him as the, ahem, "receiver".

**A/N:** Another chapter! Whoot! Haha, I had this one almost fully written, so I spent the day finishing it up and polishing it as best I could. I'm hoping I can get a large portion of my chapters out before my school semester starts. :) I hope you enjoy.

* * *

_It's your sad reality_

_It's your messed up family tree_

_And now you're left with all these questions_

"You know, the drink's not going to bite you," Neville explained to him, as if he were a child. Draco sullenly picked up his glass of Firewhiskey and took a sip.

The burn was pleasant enough, but the drink itself was of a low-end and Draco yearned instead for the taste of _Campbell's Finest Old Whiskey_, or better yet, a glass of warm Elf Wine. He tried not to think much of it. It reminded him of home. The blonde glowered over the rim of his glass at the Gryffindor.

"Tell me then, Longbottom," Draco prodded, "why you felt the need to, basically, kidnap me. Surely you have some friends of your own, and aren't entirely dependent on _ransoming _yourself company." He eyed Longbottom's sleeve, where the other had stuffed his wand.

The Gryffindor laughed warmly.

"Malfoy, you're really a prickly creature, aren't you?" he told the blonde, who in turn bristled at the comment, "Really though, you remind me of your favourite roses, all sharp and ready to hurt anyone who ventures too close. Pretty enough from a safe distance, though." At that, Draco snorted in to his firewhiskey.

"So you've decided to take up poetry now, Lardbottom?" Draco threw at the Gryffindor who held his wand captive, "Shall I refer to you as Shakespeare? Or would you prefer Bacon? Yes, I think Bacon suits you best."

Neville smiled disarmingly. "If you'd like, Malfoy. In turn, shall I call you Blue?" Draco had to choke back his laughter.

"I'm no rose, Longbottom," he told his peer once he'd collected himself, "furthest from, actually. I'm certainly not as frail as the Risum is."

Neville shrugged, and glanced out the window. His smile faded as his face was overtaken by a solemn expression.

"I don't know, Malfoy," he said quietly, "you aren't the same as you were before. Even your insults don't carry the same weight. You're not...as strong as you could be."

Draco was taken aback by the honesty and well of emotion directed towards himself. Certainly no one could have that much of a view on him. Surely, no one held that much knowledge of his personality. Yet, Longbottom sat there, looking out the window with a determined look in his eyes and a grim line to his mouth. Across his cheeks a blush was beginning to stain his skin, ruining his attempt at confidence and disclosing his embarrassment.

The silence stretched on, until the barkeep came back to refresh their drinks. As the silence was interrupted, Longbottom took it as a sign to try again.

"Malfoy, I just think...I think..." he was faltering, trying to find the right words to make Draco see.

"I think that...we never really had a chance to get to know one another-"

"Longbottom," Draco interrupted, tired and mildly embarrassed for the Gryffindor, "what is it you're looking for from me?" Neville closed his eyes and gathered his own courage.

"I think...I'd like to start fresh," he said, finally, "the war is behind us, and it's time to move on. I think we all need to lay the past to rest."

Draco's eyebrows shot up. He stared at the other man, his mouth falling open in shock. Neville opened his eyes, and his sincerity shone through. _He has to be lying. Why would he even think...after everything, after everything I've done._ Draco's mind was racing. Neville looked about to say something else.

"I want to be your friend, Malfoy."

~~~_Wilting~~~_

Sunday morning found Draco splashing cold water on to his face. He was drenched, head to toe in a layer sweat. He had awoken, throat dry and rough from his scream-inducing nightmares. _Fire, green, monster, wolf, green, fire, death, green, and a hand_, these thoughts permeated his every sleeping moment. Often, they infested his waking ones too. The blonde chanced a look at his reflection, and cringed. Gaunt cheeks, and eyes so dark with sleep-deprived bags they looked as if he'd been struck, were what awaited him in the mirror. He'd always been pale, but now he seemed translucent.

_Maybe I'm disappearing,_ he thought, and let out a mildly hysterical laugh, _that would serve me right_.

He twisted the sink off and dried his face. After casting a quick cleaning spell on both his body and his teeth, he ran a quick hand through his hair. Once minutely satisfied, he made his way out of his private rooms, in to the Slytherin Commons.

The room was crowded with students from every year. The small circle of three first years and the twelve second years were watching with rapt attention as two sixth years set charms of dancing lights around them. The fourth years that were awake were scribbling away on their parchments. Sixteen of them, plus a missing five who were probably abed. Three fifth year Slytherins were with them, and five sat on the couches lounging and talking. The sixth years not entertaining the younger students, Draco counted ten, were playing a game of cards. Three were missing from their ranks. The seventh years sat on the floor, near the large, adorned fireplace, whispering amongst themselves. Six, all accounted for.

Draco cleared his throat, and a hush fell among them.

One of the seventh years, a lesser Parkinson by the name of Aster, picks himself up from the floor and makes his way over to Draco.

"Seventh years all accounted for, Tori Greengrass, Lancel Craster, and Olivia Nott are the only sixth's that are missing, but they're all still asleep," Aster informed Draco, the usual roll-call, "all eight of the fifths are up. Most of the fourth years are up, but the rest are still dawdling up in the dorms. Heard the younger Goyles had themselves a bit of a party last night, so they'll be looking for some hangover cures. We sent the four third years out to get some breakfast, and the midgets are all up and waiting to be fed."

Draco's eyes iced over.

"Fetching food is Craster's and _your_ job, Parkinson," he glowered at the younger boy. Craster's face paled, but he held firm.

"Yeah, but the midgets were hungry, and Craster's been up too late shagging Tori and couldn't be arsed," he informed the blonde, "and the third years are all up for gaining themselves some sense of responsibility and respect. You know they feel useless since they've dwindled down to four."

"Let them have it, Draco," Blaise said, emerging from his own room, "they've been through enough to know how to handle themselves. Parkinson's right, they're just looking for some sense of recognition. Plus, they're bored from being cooped up in this place."

Draco glared at the dark boy. He couldn't refute it though. Since the year had begun, every weekend the Slytherins had taken to remaining inside their underwater Common Room. The danger outside the walls that surrounded them was well evident. _Slytherin ran away._ The other houses meant to remind them of their cowardice. While remaining indoors meant safety, collecting food was a job Draco had given to the older years, switching them off in pairs. A buddy system had to be kept at all times.

"They're still young," Draco said, "and even with four of them, they could be easily outnumbered or overpowered."

Aster Parkinson ran a hand nervously through his dark hair.

"They'll be okay," he said, almost to soothe his own worries, "I know they will be. But, Morgana, Malfoy, we can't keep this up forever. We have to be stronger than this. We can't keep hiding ourselves away."

"What would you have us do, cousin?" Pansy asked, having crept out of Zabini's room, hair mussed, "we're nothing but snakes in a trap. We're surrounded by people who would rather have us six feet below than walking around unscathed. The very fact that we've yet to be punished makes the rest of them more and more resentful."

Aster fumbled for his words, before saying, "Maybe, but that doesn't mean we can't try. I mean, the fourth years have been attacked so many times, and the new year has barely even begun. So many of us have had our assignments sabotaged that we may just all be expelled anyways."

"Aster, enough of this. Go back to your friends," Draco commanded, "I have things to discuss with Blaise and Pansy." Aster looked about to argue, but held his tongue and walked back to his friends near the fireplace. The blonde turned to his own friends.

"I have two things to tell you," he said, solemnly, "and you're probably not going to like the second."

They made their way in to Draco's private room. Once they'd seated themselves on his bed, Pansy curled up with his pillow and Blaise leaned against one of his great, wooden bedposts. He stood in front of them, and sent a muffling charm towards his door. When he told them of how he's been made Potion's assistant, they nearly split in to two large grins. However, he interrupted whatever they'd mean't to say, to explain what had happened with Longbottom, minus the... _gardening_.

"Wait, let me get this straight," Blaise said, as he rubbed his narrow eyes, "he wants to be your friend. The great hero Longbottom, wants you for a friend."

He paused and shook his head.

"Nope, no, this makes absolutely no sense at all," he told Draco. Pansy's face was twisted in to a pale dread. Her hands, however, were twisting in anticipation.

"This... this could be very good," she spoke quietly, "or horribly, terribly, and utterly devastating."

Blaise looked mildly disgusted. Pansy went on.

"Longbottom... he has power, influence now," she explained, "he could help us. Draco, he could help-"

"We don't need that sort of help Pansy!" Blaise screeched at the girl, "we're stronger than that! We're better than that! Than them. We're better than them."

Pansy looked away, pale and shaken. Draco sighed, and sat beside her, reaching out to run his fingers through her hair. Blaise snorted, stood, and left the two of them there. Once the dark skinned boy was gone, Pansy let out a tiny whimper.

"_We're not,_" she mumbled to Draco, "not really though, _I mean we lost, didn't we-_Crabbe... and so many of us have _left._ What's left for us? What are we supposed to _do_?"

Draco stared at the flickering candle on his nightstand.

He wasn't sure anymore.

~~~_Wilting~~~_

Draco snuck away from his bed near midday. He left Pansy sleeping there, having fed her a few Soothing Draughts before calming her enough to fall asleep. He crept through the now full common area, passing by unseen as most of the attention of the room fell on two dueling students. He counted the four third year students who had gone to fetch food amongst the surrounding crowd.

Once outside the Slytherin entrance, he felt his tension ease away. The blonde made his way, silently, up to the main floor, before turning away from the loud noise coming from the Great Hall and the wafting smell of pastries that tempted his stomach. He went out the front gate, and descended towards the gardens. The warmth from the sun beat down on his back.

The blue rosebush looked larger than it had the last time he'd seen it. Yet, the roses themselves had barely bloomed, and nearly a quarter of them had taken on a murky tinge to the tips of their petals. Draco kneeled in front of them. Why were they dying? He'd already removed two of the leeches, they should have been thriving.

The blonde stared at the roses as if willing them to bloom. He felt betrayed. He felt confused.

_Why? I've done my best, but they're still dying_.

"Malfoy," Neville said, as he announced his presence.

"Lardbottom," Draco said, absently and without much bite. Neville made his way over to the blonde, and sat down beside him. The Gryffindor crossed his legs and spared a sideways glance at Draco.

"Y'alright there, Malfoy?" he asked. The blonde seemed entirely hypnotized by the blue roses. Neville leaned over to poke the Slytherin in his shoulder. Draco's head snapped so quickly towards him, a tiny crack was heard. Stormy grey eyes glared scathingly up at soft brown ones.

"Do not presume to touch me, Lardbottom," Draco snarled at the war hero.

Neville lifted his hands up in the air in mock surrender. He smiled complacently.

"Alright then, just making sure you were okay. You wouldn't answer me," Neville informed him.

Draco glared at the Gryffindor, but his attention quickly returned to the wilting roses in front of him. He bit his lip, and reached out to touch one of the brown tips. Neville sighed.

"They're getting bigger Malfoy," Longbottom said, with a small smile, "look at you, helping them grow. They'll breath much easier with your help."

"They're wilting," Draco's voice cracked, "they're _dying_."

Neville frowned.

"Oh, well they probably need some water, seeing as it's been four days of sun," he stuck his finger in the dirt, which cracked like sand beneath it, "and you could probably use some mulch to slow down the growth of the Caedes Cornix."

Draco's head swiveled back to meet the Gryffindor's eyes. His eyes were wide and hopeful. The blonde stood up, and took out his wand.

"Right! Water, right then," the blonde said, mumbling to himself, "water, that will be Aguamenti then, okay-"

His arm was raised, but before he could say the words, Neville's arm shot out to grab Draco's wand arm. The Gryffindor lowered both of their arms. Draco spluttered in his rage.

"Longbottom, I told you not-"

"To presume to touch you," Neville recited, "I know. I also know that if you use magic to water the Risum de Cornix, the weeds will grow much, much faster. They feed off it, the Caedes Cornix."

Draco's eyes widened in shock, before narrowing. He shook off the Gryffindor.

"Alright, alright, I understand, Lardbottom," he said, "then how do you suggest I go about watering them?"

"We'll go and get you a watering can," Neville said with a smile, "c'mon, there's a few in the greenhouses I can lend you."

Longbottom stood, and brushed the dry dirt caked to his knees. He smiled, turned and walked a few paces. Draco just stood there, eyes guarded and arms crossed in front of his stomach defensively. The Gryffindor smiled, and motioned for Draco to follow. The Slytherin sighed and shoved his hands in to the pockets of his robes. He could feel himself beginning to sweat. He followed the Gryffindor.

They descended further, past the rest of the spiraling gardens. Once they'd reached the stone arch ways, inscribed with high-relief ornamental roses, that lead in to the lower gardens, Draco's breath was taken aback. The glass Greenhouse was nothing like it used to be. Where there had been four, regular looking greenhouses before, now stood one, enormous glass structure, that could only be described as a glass _tower_. It was covered in ivy, and the flowers that surrounded the sculpture were _thriving_. Colours swam before Draco's eyes, as he tried to understand it all.

"It's..." Draco stumbled for the words. Neville smiled brightly.

"Yeah, it's incredible," he said, "had to rebuild it after the War. It took a lot of time, but I think the results were worth it."

"You-you did this?" the blonde was at a loss for words, eyes wide as he searched the Gryffindor's for any sign of deceit, "this. This?"

"Well," Longbottom shrugged, and wiped at his face to cover his embarrassment, "not just me, Sprout helped, of course."

Draco bit his lip and said nothing more as Longbottom led him through the enormous glass doors, in to the greenhouse. The place thrummed with magic. He could feel it in the walls, in the air, dancing across his skin. Draco felt a longing open up so deep within him, so suddenly, that he almost fell with the very intense pangs of need that reverberated deep in his chest.

_This, what is this, _Draco thought, _it hurts so much. I don't understand._

Neville seemed nonplussed as he made his way towards a table surrounded by plants. Draco stood near the entrance, unsure of what to do. The pain in his chest was nearly unbearable until the Gryffindor broke his focus by speaking.

"Here it is," Longbottom said, smiling as he retrieved a large, red can from underneath the table, "I'll fill it up for you, but feel free to come and get it whenever you'd like. I'm usually in here, but if I'm not, just come on in."

"You'd put that much faith in me, Lardbottom?" Draco asked, voice barely managing not to crack at his insult. Longbottom just shrugged, and went over to a sink to fill up the can.

"You seem rather drawn to your roses," Neville told him, "anyone who cares so much for a plant doesn't seem all that threatening."

Draco nearly squeaked in outrage. The Gryffindor just laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, you don't care," he said, "I get it. I get it. There's no need to be so prickly about it. Now come here."

Draco grumbled to himself as he made his way over to the sink. The Gryffindor held out the watering can for Draco to take. When it was in the blonde's hands, he nearly stumbled from the added weight.

"Damn, Lardbottom, you could've at least cast a lightening charm," Draco said, as he shifted to hold the can with both hands. Neville laughed.

"Yeah, and then you'd have magic interfering with the water again," he explained. Draco eyed the man suspiciously, before wondering what he could do to make the other carry the can for him. Before he could say anything, however, the Gryffindor had gone to fetch a large, sealed bag. It seemed heavier.

"Well, c'mon Blue," Neville said, with a laugh in his voice, "let's get back to those roses of yours."

They left together, Draco grumbling something about _not being a rose_, and Neville laughing at his counterpart's grouching ways. Once they'd made there way back to the gardens, Draco was drowning in sweat. He put down the can, and shrugged off his robe. He caught Longbottom staring at him with a strange look in his eyes.

"What?" he spat out at the Gryffindor. Neville looked a bit sheepish.

"Nothing, you're just a little..." Neville seemed to lose his confidence, "you're a little bit on the skinny side, Malfoy. Don't you eat?"

Draco looked affronted. _Stupid Gryffindork_.

"I eat, I'm just not some overgrown lug like you," the blonde said, scathingly, "berk."

"Alright then, Malfoy, get to watering your roses already," Neville looked away, somewhat irritated. _Serves him right_.

The blonde grabbed the can, and hoisted it over the roses, a little bit insure. What if he gave them too much and drowned them. Sensing his discomfort, the Gryffindor walked over to the Slytherin, putting down his enormous bag at their feet.

"I'll tell you when to stop," Neville reassured him. Draco nodded and tipped the can, spraying the roses with a thin shower of clear water. Neville waited a for a bit, then motioned for the blonde to stop. He kneeled down and waved Draco to join him.

"Stick your finger in the dirt around the roses," he told the blonde, "you can feel if it's still too dry, or if there's enough water."

Draco did as he was told. The earth was damp, but not muddy. He told the Gryffindor.

"That's good," Neville said, his irritation having melted away, "you don't want to drown the little buggers."

Draco smiled crookedly. Neville grinned back, then reached for his large bag.

"What's in there?" the blonde asked. Neville's grin turned slightly mischievous.

"Mulch."

~~~_Wilting~~~_

"Fucking hell, Lardbottom," Draco said once they'd finished laying down the mulch, flinging himself to the ground, on his, in exhaustion, "If that's what gardening is like, count me out. We only put down those tiny scraps of wood around the roses and I'm already exhausted. I can't imagine having to do all these gardens."

Neville laughed, and made his way over to sit beside the blonde. Draco was staring up at the blue, cloudless sky, a small smile on his face and a sheen of sweat on his brow.

"Yeah, it's tough," Neville conceded with a grin, " 'spescially since most of these plants need entirely different mulch, or different methods of gardening, than others. Makes for a long day."

Draco groaned in sympathy.

"Sounds terrible," he told the Gryffindor, his grin wide, "I haven't a clue why you'd actually do it."

Neville shrugged and smiled.

"It's just," the brunette looked down at his hands, "being able to see the plants grow, and bloom, and become something so beautiful, all because of these hands, it just makes me happy. It gives my life purpose, I suppose. So even though it's hard, and sometimes I get really frustrated and want to give in, at the end of the day, it's worth it."

Draco looked over at the Gryffindor, his face unreadable. He searched Neville with stormy grey eyes, before breaking out in to a large grin. He let out a few laughs, and sat up beside the man.

"Okay, Bacon," he said, a teasing glint in his eyes, "enough with your prose."

Neville's bark of laughter was loud and friendly. Draco could feel himself slowly warming to it, and found himself joining in. Slowly their laughter died out, and they found themselves sharing a peaceful quiet.

A tiny cloud floated by, before either said a word.

"I heard what happened to Nott," Neville said, voice quiet and serious. Draco felt himself still, as a cold feeling swept through his bones.

"...Did you?" Draco said, voice frozen in an apathetic tension.

"Yeah, it's terrible. I'm really sorry, Malfoy," he told the Slytherin, "I wanted you to know that. And, I had nothing to do with it. I really do want to be your friend."

"Why?" Draco spat out, suddenly uncomfortable and feeling utterly exposed. Hell, he'd been _laughing_ with this Gryffindork. He remembered Blaise's words. _We're better than them_. But Pansy's voice floated in too, _we're not... not really._

"Because," Neville said, playing with the ends of his sleeves, "because I've known you since I was young, without ever knowing you, not really. Because your alive, even when you've been through so much. Yes, I know you been through a lot. We all have. Because you're hurt, just like the rest of us. Because I think I can help. Because I think you can be so much more than-"

"You," Draco interrupted, trembling with rage, or confusion, or hurt, or _something_, "you think I _need _you? I don't. I don't need anyone. I'm not some little lost kneazle. I'm not some kicked crup. I'm a Malfoy; I'm a Black. I'm certainly not some new _pet project _of yours that-that needs... rescue or _pity_."

He stood up, so fast that he nearly lost his balance. The blonde's hands were shaking. _I hate this, I hate you all, I don't need you. Don't you get it?_

"Malfoy, I-"

"Shut up!" Draco shouted at the Gryffindor, "shut up, and listen to me, _Lardbottom_. I don't need to be anything more than I am. This is me. I'm my father, and I'm my mother and _nothing can change that_!"

Draco's face felt warm with a hot rage. His eyes felt distinctively prickly. _I won't cry. I won't._

Neville's face was ashen, he opened his mouth.

"No!" the blonde hissed, "shut up, and stay away from me. Hear me? _Stay away from me._ I'm not worth-"

Draco silenced himself, and turned on his heel to storm off towards the castle. Neville watched him go off with a stricken look, but didn't call after the Slytherin.

_Good_, Draco thought, _good, this time he gets it._

* * *

**A/N: **well, quite a bit of angst here. Blarg. Sorry guys :) I hope you enjoyed it, please read and review. I love hearing from you.

~Pip.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything really. I am _obviously_ not Rowling, and this is _obviously _not for profit. All this is just for my own fun. Also, the lyrics are not mine either, they're Matthew West's "Family Tree".

**Death'sAngel18: **Thank you so much, ^_^ you're too sweet.

**sebear: **Thank you so much. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. :)

**AstrisDreams: **I understand, I hope you'll enjoy my story. :)

**A/N: **I think I need a beta reader. Seriously, doing my own editing sucks. Either way, this chapter is a bit longer than the last two. Also, it's a little less angsty. :) Enjoy!

* * *

_Are you gonna be like your father was,_

_And his father was?_

_Do you have to carry what they've handed down?_

When Draco entered the Slytherin Common rooms, the entirety of Slytherin House seemed to descend upon him. They flitted about him with worries of _where were you? _and _are you okay? We were so worried. _The blonde reassured them, claiming he'd had duties to attend to with Slughorn. Their fussing seemed to die down, and he sent them off before making his way back to his chambers.

Pansy was stilled curled up tightly under his sheets. Her fists were balled and her eyes shut tightly, dirty tear marks dried to her cheeks. Draco sighed, and rubbed tiredly at his own eyes. He sat beside her and shook her gently until dark eyes opened blearily, before shutting again.

"Ugh, how long was I out?" she asked, voice broken.

"Well, it's almost dinner time," the blonde informed her gently, "and it's our turn to fetch food for the house."

Pansy's eyes opened again. She pushed herself up from the bed weakly, as if a crushing weight was pushing her back down. She leaned on the other Slytherin, turning her face in to his shoulder.

"Get Aster to do it," she begged, "he shirked his responsibilities earlier. He and Craster should go, little Greengrass be damned."

"Pansy..." Draco said, pulling away from her to look in to her eyes, "you can't stay in here all day. Come on, a little bit of sunlight will do you some good."

She sighed and wiped at her cheeks, then nodded to the blonde. Pansy pushed herself up and off the bed, standing shakily on the cool floor of Draco's room. She sent a lumos towards the hanging chandelier and the fires lit in the candles. Draco shuddered, and Pansy caught the movement.

"It's not fiendfyre, Draco," she murmured to him, "it can't hurt you."

"Shush, you little pug," he told her. There was no bite to his words, and a small smile played on his lips. She returned it weakly, before turning towards his large, ornate mirror. She shuddered at her reflection.

"Well, Salazar be damned, I don't think I'll be looking the eye candy I should be on your arm tonight," she said, self-deprecatingly. Draco snorted.

"As if I'm much better," he said, "even Theo said so."

They shared a few dry laughs before a silence descended over them. Draco found himself remembering the warm silence he and Longbottom had shared before..._before he had ruined it_.

"He misses you, that Theo," she told him, not meeting his eye. Draco's eyes shifted up towards the flames dancing in his chandelier.

"I know," he said. Pansy clapped her hands.

"Right then," she said, taken over by a sudden determination, "let's get the rest of those bastards fed. Lead the way, darling."

Draco smiled at her, and stood. He took her arm in his, and ran his fingers through a few messy parts in her dark hair. They departed soon after. As they made their way up to the Great Hall, he told her of the altercation he and Longbottom had gotten in to. She sighed heavily, regret twisting at her features to her fingers.

"Be careful, Draco."

~~~_Wilting_~~~

It was early next morning, as Draco and Blaise came up to make the rear of the rest of Slytherin House as they made their way, collectively, in to the Great Hall, that Longbottom attempted to speak to him. The Gryffindor left Thomas and the girl-Weasley, waving off their confusion.

"Malfoy, wait," he said, as he made his way swiftly through the gaggle of student, "wait up. I need to talk to you."

Blaise, Draco noted, stiffened. His right arm was clutching at the wood of his wand beneath the sleeves of his robes. The dark skinned Slytherin's eyes were narrowed in contempt. Draco, however, ignored the approaching Gryffindor in favour of walking off towards his seat at the far end of the table.

"Leave off," he heard Blaise telling Longbottom, "can't you see when you're not welcome?"

"Malfoy, come on," Neville yelled after the retreating blonde, "just wait up, please."

Draco sat beside Pansy, ignoring the looks the rest of his house were sending him. _So confused_. The eyes of most of the students seated at the surrounding tables had turned to watch the spectacle. The blonde ignored them too.

"I thought you said he'd given up, Draco," Pansy whispered to him.

Draco shrugged and grabbed a roll of bread.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Pans," Draco said, feigning confusion. Blaise, finally appearing at their end of the table, sat down with a huff of indignity. The blonde sent a secretive glance, hidden beneath lowered lashes, towards Neville. He was standing with his shoulders haunched, looking for all the world like a dejected child.

_He deserves it,_ Draco reminded himself, trying to combat the twisting feeling in his gut that he feared was guilt. Longbottom, after a moment, seemed to collect himself, and a determined expression fell over his face. Draco looked away.

"Merlin, that _blood traitor_ just doesn't understand his place," Blaise spat, "Draco, what the hell is his problem?" Draco shrugged again, and took a bite out of his bread roll.

_Just leave me alone_.

_~~~Wilting~~~_

Neville didn't. Throughout the day, he tried his best to corner Draco. This carried on for a few days, and slowly Draco felt himself wearing down to the Gryffindor's advances. He just didn't seem to give up, the blonde was frustrated to note. Neither did he seem to care about who saw his futile attempts to attract Draco's attention.

Meanwhile, Draco had taken to avoiding the gardens. He could feel a gnawing pain in his chest every time he thought of the blue roses. He wondered if they were alright, if perhaps the leeches, the Caedes Cornix, had slowly begun to overtake his rosebush. It was Wednesday, while sitting near the window in Transfiguration, when the blonde finally gave in, and glanced out towards the gardens.

He spied them, his blue roses. He couldn't tell, from the distance of a few stories, if the wilting had subsided. Draco felt restless. The blonde had to tighten his hands in to fists to keep them from shaking. He could feel a deep longing to go check on them. It had yet to rain, and he wondered after their health.

_Maybe the soil is too dry, _he thought, worriedly, _they'll die. What if the weeds have come back? They'll suffocate, dry up, and break apart_.

Pansy had to shake him again, to wake him from his thoughts. She sent him a worried glance, but he quelled it with a small smile. They packed up their things and began their descent towards the Great Hall. Blaise was saying something about being surrounded by bumbling idiots, and Pansy was humming placations to the angry Slytherin.

They were just about to enter the Great Hall, when Draco found himself slamming in to another body. He stared dazedly up at green eyes. A rush of deja-vue spilt over him and Draco stilled, like a deer caught in headlights. The Weasley was barking something about staying away from them. Blaise returned the Weasel's insults with something equally as, if not more, scathing, Draco had no doubt. But he was still, and staring up in to rapidly worrying green eyes.

The blonde felt sick. He felt completely ill. His anxieties came back and he remembered his fragile, blue roses. The rosebush had grown, the last time he'd seen it, when Neville had said those things about wanting to be his friend. Potter was calling his name.

_This, _Draco thought, feeling the creeping sense of hysteria unfolding in his gut, _this is what it feels like to lose your mind_.

"Malfoy," he heard Longbottom's soft voice calling out to him, over the yelling between Blaise and Weasley, "Malfoy, are you alright?"

Draco ignored him in favour of remaining frozen in fear, shock, or confusion, but Longbottom's hand came up, to rest on his left forearm. Neville gently extracted him from Potter's steadying grasp.

"Malfoy, what the hell is up with you?" Potter asked, but Draco chose not to respond. Neville had caught him.

"What ever could you mean, Potty?" Blaise spat scathingly at the boy wonder, "all the fame getting to your head? Can't understand when someone actually doesn't want your attention?"

"Blaise," Pansy called softly, a hint of trepidation in her voice.

"Shut it, Zabini," Weasley growled, his body was tense, "the lot of you should watch were you're walking. It's none of our business if Malfoy's become a blind freak."

"Freak? Freak- Merlin, it's your lot that belongs under that category. I can't-" Blaise was beginning to rant, but Draco tuned him out.

The blonde could feel the warmth of Neville's fingers seeping through the sleeves of his robe, on to his Dark Mark. He shuddered at the contact. It felt like tiny spiders crawling against the skin of his forearm. It itched; it _burned_ from the contact. Draco could feel Potter's questioning eyes on his turned back. He shuddered again.

"Ron, leave off," Neville told the redhead, who spluttered with injustice, "I need to talk to Malfoy."

"Neville, mate, why are you so-" Weasley started.

"It's fine Ron," the brunette interrupted, "You and Harry should go ahead. It's a bit private."

Draco turned to watch how Longbottom's demands would be met. Weasley looked about to argue, and Potter's green eyes were flickering back and forth between the blonde and Neville. Potter nodded solemnly to Longbottom, and pulled Weasley through the doors, in to the Great Hall.

"Longbottom, Draco doesn't want you talking to him," Blaise said menacingly. Pansy was pale, but she grabbed Blaise's arm and pulled him away.

"C'mon," she told the dark skinned Slytherin, "it's none of our business. Let's go eat."

Her voice was anything but threatening, but Blaise followed, grumbling under his breath. The silence that descended upon the two remaining students was heavy and tense. Draco looked up at Neville, eyes still frozen over, unreadable. The fingers that held his left forearm, unknowingly brushing against the stain that marked him forever as _evil_, as his _father's son_, tightened.

"Malfoy, please just-just listen, okay?" Neville said, his eyes pleading. Draco didn't respond, preferring to remain as still as a statue. Longbottom sighed, but trudged on.

"I wasn't... well you see, I wasn't entirely honest with you," he said, his grip on Draco's arm loosening, "I mean, I do _want_ to help you. It's just- you're so difficult, you know? So prickly, and sensitive and I know I'm being demanding in thinking that you'd just accept my friendship for what it is. But... look, I want to help you because... I saw you, you know, in the library."

Draco's eyes melted in to a confused storm of grey. _Library? When was I in the Library?_

"It was before, when you, erm, were looking for books on that weed of yours. I saw you take them, and I thought it was strange that you'd be looking for tips on gardening. So, when you went to sit way in the back, I followed you. I saw... you looked so happy. It was so strange, like a sudden light took over your face, and it- I recognize that look. I know that look, Malfoy."

Draco's confusion was swiftly twisting in to an uncomfortable anxiety and embarrassment. He'd never heard someone be so... so honest. Neville's face was red, and he was looking for all the world like he'd prefer the ground to open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole, than to continue. But his jaw was set, and his eyes were determined, and he was entirely, and unmistakably a Gryffindor.

"I thought, in that moment, he _understands_. I thought, Malfoy knows what it's like to feel... happy, because of them- the roses I mean," Draco could tell Neville felt embarrassed by admitting that, "I- herbology is like...it's a reason to go on. For them, for the plants, you have to go on. So... yeah, I thought we had something in common."

Draco's gut wrenched at that. _Something in common_. His head swam with voices, his father's, his mother's, Blaise's _bloodtraitors_, Pansy's broken _we're not any better_. It was all too much. Draco drew his arm away from the softened grip of Neville's hand. He held his stained arm protectively against his chest. The Gryffindor sighed dejectedly.

"Then," Neville said, voice so low Draco could barely hear it, "then, your face just closed up. Poof, the smile, the happiness was gone. You looked... it was so sad."

Draco stared in horror at the other man. His teeth gritted together. He was embarrassed, at being caught, at being seen when he'd been so certain that he'd been hidden away from prying eyes behind the bookshelves. He pivoted on his heel and made an attempt to walk away. Neville's arm shot out to grab his shoulder.

"Please, Malfoy, can't you just..." Neville's voice was cracked with sympathy.

_Too much, it's too much._

"Just..." Draco began, voice barely audible, "leave it be. I... I need some time."

Neville's breath caught. Draco shrugged off the hand that gripped his shoulder, still facing away from the Gryffindor.

"Right, time," Longbottom's voice was pitched in excitement, "of course! All the time in the World. No need to rush! Thank y-"

"Not now, Bacon," Draco told him, walking away from the Gryffindor, "I need to eat."

~~~_Wilting_~~~

It was after lunch when Draco's resolve broke. He had to see the roses. The weeds could have come back, or the plant could be shriveling up. Either way, he gave in to the urge, giving Blaise, Pansy, and the silent Gregory an excuse for them to go on ahead. Once they'd disappeared, out of Draco's line of sight, he made his way out the entrance, and towards the gardens.

The blonde crept forward, keeping a watchful eye of his surroundings. It wouldn't do to have Longbottom find him so soon after their confrontation. Once Draco had finally made it in to the gardens, he double checked his surroundings before making his way over to the Risum de Cornix.

His breath caught in his throat. They had _bloomed_. Larger, much larger than before, the blue roses had grown to the size of Draco's fist. He felt a smile break over the mask of his face. _Stunning_. He kneeled down, almost with reverence, before the rosebush. He felt like laughing, like singing, like _dancing_.

He was _giddy_.

"Draco," he heard from behind, breaking through his excitement. Draco's head whipped around. Instead of Longbottom, as he had guessed, he found himself staring up at a fidgeting Theodore Nott. Draco lowered his eyes to the boy's feet.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Theo asked, somewhat embarrassed.

"I... well, I'm doing some work for Slughorn," Draco answered, deciding it was best to keep his lie somewhat logical. The other Slytherin glanced around the gardens, before shoving his hand in his pockets and focusing once again on Draco.

"Right," Theo said, "I just saw you come out here alone, and I was worried. Buddy system, right?"

Draco nodded stiffly.

"I, well I heard about what happened with Longbottom," the dark haired boy said. Draco froze, had he heard _everything_? Draco could feel his heart racing wildly. He stilled his features in to his usual mask.

"They just, they think that they can just accost us whenever it strikes their fancy," Nott said, glaring sullenly at Draco's roses, "like they have the right to just... bloody Gryffindors. I came to see if you were alright, seeing as I'm stationed at the far end of the table. I wasn't sure if he'd done anything to harm you. If he had... I-"

"It's fine, Theo," Draco interrupted, voice soft but firm, "it's Longbottom. He wasn't after any type of revenge."

This didn't seem to settle Nott. He squirmed and bounced his weight from one foot to the other.

"Then... then what did he want?" Theodore's tone sounded anxious to Draco's ears, "I mean... are the two of you...?"

"Pfft, no Theo," Draco said with a snort, "of course not. It's not like that, he just wanted to talk to me about... about our shared assistant duties."

This calmed Theodore. The other Slytherin sighed with relief.

"Oh, good," he said, "I mean, it's just, you've been so distant since we got back to school. I thought that we'd be-"

"Look, Nott," Draco said, feeling the twisting feeling in his gut of guilt and embarrassment, "we can't... you and I. It's not the same as before... _before_, and you and I both know it."

"Draco... Draco, why?" Theodore's face was contrite, "I mean, we _have_ something. You can't just..."

"No, Theo," Draco said, unable to look the other Slytherin in his eyes, "we _had_ something. But, everything has changed and you can't... do you know what it could do to your social standing if you're caught associating with a _Malfoy_?"

"Draco, you're not your father," Theodore said, face pale, "why do you have to be so damn stubborn? You're not him, and everything you did was done under forced consent. You weren't the one who was sentenced, and-"

"Theodore!" Draco said, face red with anger and shame, "I have yet to be called upon by the Wizengamot. I haven't even had my own trial yet. You don't have the _right_ to stand there and preach about the things I've done. I could very well get the _death penalty _or worse, I could-"

"Please, Draco, don't... I didn't know," Theodore was looking at Draco's face with a pale expression of horror, "I thought, during the summer, that they'd..."

"They haven't," Draco said, "I'm still waiting for my turn to take the stand."

Theodore had nothing else to say, and so Draco stood and walked away from both the Slytherin and his roses. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

_Running away_.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"Mr. Malfoy, would you pass me the Newt's tongue?" Professor Slughorn asked Draco. Draco moved to comply, unflinchingly grasping the squirming organ. He handed it off to Slughorn.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Slughorn said, adding the squirming tongue to the bright green elixir, "I'll need those fig leaves crushed as well."

Draco went about his task. It was nearly unconscious, his precise actions. The now crushed leaves of the fig were handed off to the Potion's Master at his signal. The blonde huffed in boredom. His talents were well wasted on this menial drivel. Slughorn switched the burners to low, letting the Potion simmer. The professor then turned to Draco with a smile.

"Alright, one more task, if you will," Slughorn said; Draco nodded his head, "I'll need you to go get the snowberries Sprout's assistant has just harvested. What's the lad's name, Longbroom? Longbutton? Long-"

"Longbottom, Neville Longbottom," Draco corrected, mildly peeved.

"Ah yes! Such a nice lad, Sprout says. Well, they'll be down at the Greenhouse," Slughorn informed Draco, "lovely place, that. Have you had the chance to see it yet?"

Draco huffed again, feeling extremely uneasy at the prospect of running in to Neville. He'd tried to put off, as best he could, seeing the Gryffindor again.

"Yes, well, off with you, Mr. Malfoy," the professor directed, "I'll be needing those for tomorrow. I've got a few Beautification Potions to finish. A few of my, ahem, more wealthy clients have been simply _demanding_ them of late."

Draco snorted, but complied to Slughorn's orders. He bid the Potion Master farewell, and left the laboratory. As he made his way up to the main floor, and out in to the darkening gardens, he thought of first stopping by the Risum de Cornix to test the soil. He made sure to check that the surrounding area was clear, before gracefully sitting down in front of his roses. The soil split beneath his finger and cracked like glass in its dryness. Draco flinched.

He stood, and brushed off his knees. He turned, glanced about for any signs of the Gryffindor, and made his way down towards the greenhouse. Once outside, he took a moment to admire the tower of glass. It really was beautiful. Draco neared the entrance, took a deep breath, checked to make sure no lights were on inside, and entered.

He instantly felt the thrum of magic dancing across his body. Draco fumbled for his wand, and cast a lumos. In moments, the entire building was awash with light. He made his was over to the station that held the large, red watering can Longbottom had given him free reign with.

It was when Draco was filling it with water, that he heard a noise behind him. He spun around, wand raised, and there, illuminated by the soft glow of the candle stood Neville.

"I heard a noise," Neville said, motioning towards the sink, "I'm sorry if I startled you."

Draco lowered his wand and ran his fingers through his hair.

"No, it's fine," the blonde told the Gryffindor, "That seems to be a common occurrence now, people creeping up on me."

Neville smiled, and seemed to relax.

"Getting some water for those roses of yours then?" he asked the blonde. Draco nodded, and went about filling the rest of the can.

"That's good, oh!" Neville seemed to remember something, "Slughorn will be needing those snowberries of his, right? I'll go get them."

The brunette disappeared back in to what appeared to be an office. By the time Draco had finished filling up the water, and twisting the sink off, the Gryffindor had reemerged, carrying a small, leather sac. He handed the snowberries to Draco.

"Here you go," Neville said, "do you need any help with that can?"

"No, I think I can manage," Draco replied. They stood in silence for a moment. The Gryffindor coughed.

"Well, erm..." he said, fiddling with his sleeves, "right, Malfoy, have you given any thought on what I said?"

Draco's eyes were focused on the bright red of the watering can. He took a breath, and slowly, very slowly, brought his line of sight up to the Gryffindor's.

"I... well..." the blonde stammered, staring in to pleading, brown eyes, "I just... well... this is tough, Longbottom. I mean, there's so much history, and I-I mean, I'm not a very nice person."

"Well, I know that, obviously, but..." Neville seemed to have difficulty searching for the words to soothe the blonde's misgivings, "I think, there's more than that. I mean, sure, you're prickly... but you're funny too. I mean, in a cruel and honest way, but still..."

"I just, I think," Draco could feel his face warming, "I think, that you should know that, before...before we begin this weird... friendship."

The blonde's face felt extremely hot now. Neville stared at him, open mouth in shock. It took the Gryffindor a moment to process what he'd heard.

"So... so that's a yes, then?" Longbottom asked, voice pitching high in excitement. Draco nodded, looking away from the Gryffindor to cover his own embarrassment.

"Right! Alright, thank you! This... this is great," Neville's face was split wide in a grin, his arms were flailing about, "so great. Alright then, how bout we go get some drinks to celebrate?"

"It's a school night, Lardbottom," Draco said, embarrassment dissipating in to scandalized shock, "plus, I've got to get these berries to Professor Slughorn."

Neville laughed, and took the watering can from Draco's grasp.

"Right, right, then let's go water those roses of yours, then we'll get these berries to Slughorn," the Gryffindor said, "then we'll go get some drinks. I thought you Slytherins were all about wild nights."

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"No, you're lying," Draco said, choking on his firewhiskey as he laughed, "I can't believe it."

"No, honest," Neville said, eyes wide and bright with inebriation, "we could here 'em going at it for ages! All night it was 'oh Ron, harder! More!' and him with his loud grunts."

Draco was shaking in mirth. Neville knocked back his drink and signaled for another.

"I think I'd be scarred for life," Draco said, imagining for a moment, wild, kinky, _Weasley_ sex. The Gryffindor nodded, his head bobbing wildly.

"I know! I mean, Hermione's a pretty girl and all, but Ron," they both shuddered, "I could go my entire life without havin' to have heard all that."

"Pfft, better than having to hear Millicent and Goyle go at it, all throughout fifth year," Neville's face was one of abject horror, "oh, I know. Between the both of them, you'd think they could've managed a silencing spell. Nope, it sounded like two elephants mating."

"That's... a nice image for my brain," Neville said, swaying slightly, "I think... I think I might be a lil be sloshed. Dunno if I woulda told you that story about Ron and Hermione if I were sober. You can't tell _anybody_."

Draco snickered, and then tried, belatedly to hide it behind his glass. He could feel his brain buzzing, and he distinctly remembered that Longbottom had certainly never had a twin. _Yes, double vision, a sign of impairment_, Draco recited in his head. He wasn't all too certain about standing, either. He was pretty sure floors didn't normally wobble.

"We should...should head back to... what's it called?" Neville was standing, until Draco blinked and he was sitting again.

"It's a castle," Draco informed him, "not a very biiiiiig castle, but a castle none-tress...none finesse.. none the less!"

Neville made to stand, this time balancing himself on the bar. Draco admired his ability to do so.

The barkeep came back without the drink Neville had motioned for. Instead, he took one look at the boys and sighed.

"It's pretty damn big, Malfie...Malfoy," Neville said, ignoring the barkeep's frustrated attempts to get their attention.

"You two are in no condition to be going anywhere," the barkeep tried, "I'll just go get a room upstairs-"

"Pfffffft, big? Big? Have you _seen_ another castle in your life? Malfoy manner... Manor, right, Manor, has a bigger estate."

"I'll be right back with the key," the barkeep carried on, "you two sit still. Don't go _anywhere_."

"No. Way," Neville said, looking affronted, "you're lying."

"Bah! All our estates put together could be... like, it's own _country_," the blonde said, swaying as he too attempted to stand. Neville's mouth was wide open in shock. Then he laughed, causing himself to fall back on to his stool.

"Merlin, no wonder Puggington, erm, Parkington, no wait, Parkinson wants in your pants so bad," the Gryffindor said, face red. Draco scoffed.

"Nah, not at all," Draco said, eyes soft as he thought of his friend, "she's wonderful and all, but she knows which side of the fence I swing for."

Neville was positively gapping at him. Draco thought he looked very akin to a fish.

"You're _gay_?" Draco rolled his eyes, or at the very least, he made the effort to do so.

"It's not like it's a big _secret_," Draco said, "thought you knew."

Neville shook his head. Draco looked at him, fear suddenly gripping him.

"Does it... you know, bother you?" Draco asked. He felt suddenly vulnerable, and he was certain his tone was much more distressed than it usually would be. Neville, however, shook his head.

"No! 'course not," the Gryffindor's eyes were wide and sincere, and Draco felt instantly relieved, "no, I just didn't know, is all."

The barkeep had returned, so Draco could say no more as he was led up to a room. He barely managed to wave at both the barkeep and a very confused looking Longbottom as he stumbled in to his room. He found the bed and promptly blacked out.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

Draco awoke to someone frantically shaking his person about. He opened his eyes and sat up in a burst of sudden wakefulness. _Bad idea_, Draco thought, as his vision swam and his brain pounded in pain.

"Malfoy, Merlin, we've gotta get back to the school," Neville told him anxiously. Draco blearily looked at his wristwatch. It was only five thirty. They'd have enough time to get back.

"Ugh, Lardbottom, I shall never, ever drink with you again," Draco told the Gryffindor, "it feels like a troll is beating me with his club, from the _inside _of my head, _out_."

Neville laughed softly. He looked atrocious and hilarious, hair mussed, pale, and shaky. Draco was certain he wasn't much better off. The Slytherin pulled himself out of the bed. He hadn't even slept under the sheets.

"Sorry, I'm not used to drinking that much," Neville told the blonde, sheepishly, "I suppose I'm a bit of a lightweight."

"No, you're a tosser," Draco informed Longbottom, standing on wobbly legs, "and a Gryffindork, and I shan't be pleased with you until I've had some coffee... and perhaps a hangover potion. Also, we should go see that barkeep. I'm certain I behaved atrociously towards him last night, and it wouldn't do not to pay the poor sod for having to deal with the two of us."

Neville laughed again, and they made their way down to the bar area. They paid the man, who's eyes lit up at the sight of the few Galleons Draco placed on the bar. Neville shifted slightly, and pinked when realised he had no money to pay Draco back with. Draco waved his hand.

"I told you," Draco said, reassuring his new..._friend_, "I'm exceedingly wealthy. Like, enough that all my lands could be made in to a country. Like, my stables are nicer than most houses."

Neville seemed to relax a bit at that. They made their way back towards the castle, making light conversation. Mostly, they tried not to be sick as their thestral-drawn carriage wobbled and swayed.

Once they'd arrived at Hogwarts, they evacuated the carriage as swiftly as possible, thankful for solid ground. It was now around six thirty, so Draco and Neville made their way in to the school, and then towards the Great Hall. Draco could positively taste the coffee from the smell of it wafting from the dining area.

Once they'd entered the Great Hall, they were accosted by several people at once. The girl-Weasley had all but jumped at Longbottom, crushing him in to a hug. Draco almost laughed, until his line of vision was blocked by a very worried, very touchy Pansy.

"Neville, where were you? We were all so worried," the Weaselette told the Gryffindor.

"Oh Draco, oh Draco, I was so _scared_," Pansy was telling him, "I thought... we thought something had _happened._"

"Oy, Neville, what were you doing with the Ferret?" Draco heard Weasley ask, but Neville couldn't answer because he was stammering with embarrassment at Weasley's sister.

"Draco, are you alright? Damnit, I should've-" Theo was interrupted by Draco's raised hand.

"It's fine, really. I'm alright," Draco reassured his friends, "a little hungover, but I'm okay."

Blaise was glaring at Neville, and Pansy was sighing with relief in his arms. Theodore nodded, and sent the blonde a small smile.

"Y'alright, then, Malfoy?" Gregory asked, voice barely audible beneath the loud cries coming from the Weaselette. Draco nodded, and smiled at his former minion.

"Good," Goyle said, before becoming distracted by the hanging fixtures above the Great Hall's entrance.

"I'm fine, Gin. I swear," Neville said to the near hysterical girl, a blush staining his cheeks, "I was just out too late drinkin' with Malfoy. We drank a lil too much, so the barkeep let us stay over."

Blaise's face was pulled together in rage. Draco knew he'd need to soothe the other Slytherin privately. He pulled back from Pansy, and turned to the gaggle of Gryffindors.

"Right, I'll see you later then, Lardbottom," Draco told the man tiredly.

The Weasleys bristled at the name, and seemed ready to come to Neville's defence. Instead, the Gryffindor waved them off, laughed warmly, and nodded to Draco.

"See you later," Neville said with a smile, "Draco."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I hope you guys enjoyed it. Please read and review! :)

~Pip


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything really. I am _obviously_ not Rowling, and this is _obviously _not for profit. All this is just for my own fun. Also, the lyrics are not mine either, they're Matthew West's "Family Tree".

**Authors Note:** Waaaah this took so long to write. Albeit, it is a much longer chapter than I had anticipated...but yeah, sorry guys -_-. Please enjoy it! And I promise, next chapter there _will be some Harry time_.

**sebear: **haha, why are you apologizing? :) I'm glad you're enjoying my story! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

**Death'sAngel18:** Oh my gosh, I'm really sorry it took so long for me to finish this one. I had some serious trouble deciding on which parts to put where. And yeah...I adore writing Neville and Draco's blooming bromance.

**Belldandy55555: **Haha, Blaise is more...well he's not really a nice person. I mean, he's kind of full of himself so he can't stand that he and his House need some help.

**Acheron11000:** Thank you so much! Yeah, Blaise has always seemed a bit prejudiced against...well, everyone.

**OshieteOy: **Wow, I really hope I continue to live up to your expectations! And I totally agree. I do enjoy the quick-let's-shagstuff occasionally...but my story is set to be a really long one, so I get the privilege of taking my time when writing these characters. Also, I may be kind of obsessed with how the Slytherin House functions. I feel like it's much more complicated than the other three. I hope you enjoy this next chapter :) Thank you.

* * *

_No, this is not your legacy_

_This is not your destiny_

"Well, I'm just curious, is all," Neville said, bright red in the face, "I mean- Bloody hell Draco, stop laughing!"

Draco couldn't. The Gryffindor was as red as a tomato, and now he had his face hidden behind his hands. They'd been in the middle of harvesting some Galangal for Professor Slughorn when Neville had asked his ridiculous question, in true bumbling idiot fashion.

"Oh Lardbottom, you truly are a massive dork," Draco told him through his snickers. Neville scoffed.

"Well, I just wanted to know! We're friends and all," Neville said sullenly. Draco shook his head and smirked widely.

"Fine, Lardbottom, I'll tell you mine," Draco conceded, eyes narrowing mischievously, "but first, tell me what you've done so far. Better yet, do tell me _who_ you've done."

Neville snorted, and rubbed at his slowly fading blush, "You're kidding right? That was terrible, Draco."

The blonde just smirked wider.

"Don't avoid the question."

"Ugh, fine, you horrible creature," Neville said, throwing his arms up in the air in exasperation. He then mumbled something so quietly and quickly that it was utterly indiscernible. Draco's face hurt from his self satisfied grin, and he uprooted another of the Galangal before speaking.

"Sorry, didn't catch that, Bacon. Run that by me again? I'd sorely miss the chance to hear your pathetic...whoops, _poetic_ way with words."

"Parvati...and I can't tell you the other one," Neville said, fervently avoiding Draco's eyes .

"Hmmm, well then, let's see if I can't figure out who _exactly_ this mysterious lady is."

"Erm, so... why is it that Slughorn needs these Galangal so badly?" Neville stammered.

"Client wants a love potion. Now, this bird of yours, are you two _madly, deeply_ in love?"

Neville's blush had returned, tenfold, "It's not...she doesn't want me. Drop the subject okay?"

His tone was sad and serious. Draco glared at the man, but did as he was asked. They finished collecting the last of the Galangal in a strained silence. When they were finished, they carried the plants back to the Greenhouse in two large bags. Once they arrived, Draco brought out the Potion knives to properly prepare the Galangal. Neville was hanging around the mandrakes, sullenly checking the soil. The Slytherin bit his lip.

"It was Theodore Nott," Draco said, guiltily, "In fifth year, and in sixth year, somewhat. Whenever I really needed him, whenever I could find the time in between the...the cabinet and... you know."

Neville looked up at Draco, eyes wide.

"So... he still... he wants to be with me, but I... can't."

"Why not?" Neville asked, "I mean, he's an alright looking bloke, I suppose. And he seems decent enough, better than Zabini."

Draco shrugged and looked back at the Galangal he was dicing. He set about working again. They lapsed in to silence once again.

"Well... I-she and I, we were together in seventh year, when everything was...crazy. We weren't really _together_, but we were _there_ and _lost_. It was convenient. I...I cared for her, but she didn't see me that way," Neville said, glaring at the mandrakes with resentment.

"But she still slept with you?" Draco asked, feeling the awkwardness slowly ebb away.

"Yeah, she did," Neville said, "but after..._everything_, she ended it."

There was a sadness there that Draco couldn't fully fathom.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"Draco," Pansy whispered, as she shook the blonde awake. Draco glared blearily up at the girl.

"What? It's... Merlin, it's two am."

Pansy looked uncomfortable. He chanced a glance up at her face. The brunette's eyes were swollen from crying. She looked about to break down at any moment. Draco sat up quickly, and pulled her close, caressing her cheek with his hand. The pad of his thumb caught the dampness beneath her eye.

"What happened?" Draco asked worriedly.

Pansy leaned in, and between deep breathes she said, "Blaise... we had a fight."

Draco nodded, and shifted over. He motioned for her to lay down. Pansy crawled in beside him, and they moved together until she was entirely wrapped up in his arms. The blonde ran his fingers through her hair soothingly.

"He's been so-so angry lately," Pansy sniffled in to his neck, "I don't know what to do, and now...with Longbottom getting closer to you, he's so resentful. I can't do anything to calm him down."

The blonde glared up at his dark chandelier. His fingers gently pulled through the matted mess of Pansy's hair. He'd have to deal with Blaise, somehow. The dark skinned Slytherin had become something of a menace of late. Even Pansy, who had fallen together with Blaise during their seventh year, during the War, couldn't quell him. However, it wasn't as if she had tried very hard.

Draco looked down at the childhood friend, who had, at some point during his musings, fallen asleep. She barely ate, never smiled, never laughed her little spiteful laugh. All she seemed capable of doing as of late was sleeping. The blonde thought of his new _acquaintance_. Longbottom was tall, and broad, and full of laughter. He too, had lived through the war. He'd grown strong.

T_hey'd been on the_ _winning side_, Draco thought bitterly, _would that we were the ones who had won. But then, we never had the choice. Could they really expected us to fight...to kill our parents?_

No, their choice had been made before they'd even been born. Now, they had to live with it, the failures of their parents. In the aftermath of the war, they'd been left with their last resource, their wealth. That, surely, weighed heavily on the minds of the ones who had stayed to fight the Final Battle.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"I don't know, Draco," Pansy answered Draco sardonically, "I didn't really pay attention during that year. I had a lot of other things to focus on."

"Oh, come on Pans, you must've seen something to let on who this mystery girl is. It's not like Lardbottom was laying low during the War," Draco said, a light smile playing at his lips. He pushed the door to the Great Hall open, and held it for her.

"Ugh, I don't know. Longbottom was constantly surrounded by his Gryffindorks," Pansy said, shrugging as she walked through the doors, "it could've been any one of them. Just to reiterate, your new _boyfriend_ wasn't really my primary focus."

"New boyfriend?"

Both Pansy and Draco's heads swiveled around to stare in shock at the Gryffindor who had approached. Neville was wearing a small smile, and dangling farther behind him stood Thomas and Finnegan. The two looked weary and suspicious.

Pansy rolled her eyes, and waved to Draco as she left the two facing each other. The blonde grumbled to himself, before acknowledging Longbottom with a nod of his pale head.

"So, you're back together with Nott then?" Neville asked, looking somewhat embarrassed. Draco sighed and smirked up at Longbottom in exasperation. He shook his head.

"No, Lardbottom, Pansy was just being... well, she was being herself, really," Draco said, suddenly realising she had been almost insulting. Perhaps it was an improvement.

Neville nodded, and let out an awkward laugh. He shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, before saying, "Well, I was wondering if you'd like to study together this afternoon. We could go to the library after Potions; Merlin knows, I'm pants at that subject. I could use some help, especially from a _future Potion Master_ such as yourself."

"Compliments will get you nowhere, Lardbottom," Draco said with a wry grin. He noticed Neville's friends bristling at his comment.

"And anyways," Draco hurried to say, "I highly doubt I'll be a Potions Master. It interferes with my work ethic."

"I thought it was extremely hard work, becoming a Master," Neville said, a look of confusion passing over his face.

"Alas, it is, and thus it interferes with my strict ethics against working."

Longbottom's face took on a startled expression, before cracking in to a large grin. He let out a few laughs, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Draco, you're a giant egghead," Neville deadpanned. Draco huffed.

"Knowledge be damned, it's not like any of the Professors would agree to that. My scores are abysmal. Also, your cronies look quite impatient. Perhaps you should be seeing to them, instead of blatantly sabotaging my attempts at eating breakfast," the blonde said, motioning towards the two whispering Gryffindors hanging back, behind Neville.

Neville glanced behind him and a look of frustration passed quickly over his face. He turned back to look at the Slytherin and the expression was gone. In its place, Longbottom's usual smile had returned.

"I'll let you get to your breakfast," the Gryffindor said, eyes dancing with mirth, "if you agree to study with me. I could use a tutor, Draco."

"_Lardbottom_, I may be an entity of divine powers, but even Merlin couldn't help you with with your sad attempts at brewing," Draco said, glaring up impatiently at Neville.

Neville winced slightly, but held firm, "So, let's say thirty minutes after Potions, at the Library."

Before Draco could answer, he was cut off by a distinctly irritated voice.

"Oy, Neville, mate, what are you doing with Malfoy?" Weasley said, voice pitching as he pronounced Draco's family name.

Neville smiled, and shot the blonde an apologetic look. Draco rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and glared at the breakfast table he would simply _adore_ to be sitting at and _eating his breakfast_.

"Just talking, Ron," Neville said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Ginny Weasley had accompanied her brother over to Neville and Draco.

Seeing the redheads now stationed on either side of Longbottom, Thomas and Finnegan made their way over. Draco tensed, and clutched at his wand, hidden in his sleeve. He was alone, and surrounded by people who would love nothing better than to see him turned in to a slug..._again_.

Ron shot Draco a highly suspicious glare. The blonde felt it highly unnecessary, seeing as _he_ was the one being accosted by Gryffindors so early in the morning.

"Why?" Ginny Weasley asked, her eyes dark and almost unreadable as she took in the blonde. Neville shrugged.

"Why not?" Neville answered. Draco sighed.

"Right, then, I'm going to go," the Slytherin said, slowly backing away from the group of red and gold cloaked students, "I have things to see to. Like, for instance, this pounding need for coffee my migraine wont allow me to forget, and perhaps even some nutrients derived from, I don't know, _food_."

Neville quickly grabbed the retreating Slytherin by his arm. His left arm again, Draco noted with utter dismay.

"Draco, I'll see you after Potions," at those words, the group of Gryffindors floundered in confusion. Draco tugged his arm a few times, to no avail. He grumbled and glared.

"Fine! Fine, Lardbottom, I'll see you after Potions," Draco spat venomously.

Neville smiled, and let go of Draco's arm. The Slytherin clutched it protectively to his chest, and glared once more at the group. He pivoted, and made his way over to his friends, grumbling under his breath about _Gryffindorks and Weasels_.

Draco sat down in a huff of indignity, ignoring Blaise, Pansy, and Greg. He reached for the pot of coffee, and filled his mug entirely inelegantly. It was only after violently grabbing a bread roll, and tearing it apart with his teeth, that he noticed the tense atmosphere surrounding his friends.

Greg was his usual zombie self, glancing up at the candles floating above them and picking at his food. It was Pansy and Blaise who had caught Draco's attention. They were both ignoring each other and glaring darkly at their breakfasts. Draco's attempts at destroying his bread with his teeth slowed to a more regular speed. He swallowed his bite.

"You two haven't made up yet?" Draco asked, awfully tactlessly.

Blaise all but exploded. His arms shot out to bang on the table, shocking the surrounding students to silence. He stood up in a fury, his chair toppling behind him.

"What do you think you're _doing_, Draco?" Blaise demanded, eyes wild with anger, "you can't keep this up; it'll _ruin_ us. Why are you keeping so close to that _useless_ _squib_?"

Draco noticed Pansy seeming to fold in on herself. He glared up at his friend.

"Lardbottom may be _slow_, but he's not a squib."

"He's one of _them_. He's not one of _ours_. We need to keep to ourselves, if we're ever going to survive. Don't you understand how _dangerous_ this situation will become if you keep associating with him?"

Draco glared down at his destroyed bread roll. He knew it was dangerous. It was just that...when the blonde thought about the roses, and the way Longbottom always seemed to be _there_ to help, or encourage, or even just to talk, it almost felt worth it.

_Maybe I'm being selfish_, Draco thought, stricken by a nagging pit of guilt in his stomach. He'd been carelessly endangering the other Slytherins. If one of them were punished for his actions...

Draco remembered Crabbe's face as it slowly blistered and popped and _burnt until there was nothing left but ash._

"Think on that, Draco," Blaise spat, gathering up his things, "while your traipsing around with that do-gooder."

With that said, the dark skinned Slytherin left. Once he was past the doors, the table exploded in to a flurry whispers. Draco heard Pansy let out a few sniffles. His eyes tracked their way over the wooden table until they found her hands. They were clutched tightly in to fists, all white knuckles and broken skin where her fingernails met her palm.

"Don't listen to him," came Gregory's gloomy voice.

Draco's head rose to stare in shock at the usually quiet boy. Gregory was still examining the candles, food almost entirely untouched. Draco would've thought it had been his imagination, had Pansy not worn a near identical expression of surprise. She spluttered in dry laughter through her choked back sobs.

She looked at Draco, and wiped her eyes violently with her sleeve. Pansy then grabbed her fork, and ate a few bites of Greg's scrambled eggs. After swallowing, she nodded her head to Goyle, and spoke.

"The zombie's right, Draco," Pansy said, "don't listen to Blaise. He's an idiot. Always has been. I never liked him very much."

Draco looked at her with a mixture of shock and disbelief. Gregory just nodded his head, and smiled a little bit. His eyes never left the candles.

~~~_Growing_~~~

"No, Lardbottom! If you use more than _exactly two drops of _hellebore, you're essential making a poison that will either _explode_ or _create toxic fumes that will kill everyone within the kilometer_!" Draco shouted in utter disgust.

Neville paled, and scribbled away this new found knowledge in his textbook. He underlined it a few times for emphasis. The blonde rubbed his eyes in frustration.

"How do you _not know this_? You are pretty much an herbologist! Hellebore is incredibly dangerous, even in small quantities," Draco scolded.

Neville just nodded and kept writing. Draco sighed and looked out the window at the dimming light of the sun covering the grounds outside in gold. He could see the Greenhouse towers in the distance. The sun was starting to set earlier, as the summer slowly faded in to autumn.

The two of them had met up after Potions, as planned. Draco had arrived late, hoping Longbottom had given up on the study plans. He hadn't, of course. The blonde had glared, but led Neville to the far back of the Library. He preferred to remain hidden.

Draco looked back at Neville once he heard the Gryffindor put down his quill and crack his knuckles. The brunette was smiling at him in a very suspicious way. The blonde thrummed his fingers against the table with impatience, waiting for Longbottom to say something.

"Egghead," Neville said.

Draco flushed.

"Dork," Draco flung back at the man. Neville just shrugged.

"I was thinking," Neville said, ignoring Draco's usual _Oh really? Don't hurt yourself_, " about earlier, you said that your scores haven't been so great this year. It doesn't make much sense though...I mean, you are a giant egghead."

Draco shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and glared at his hands, "Yeah well, I've been unable to hand in my assignments as of late."

"Like before, when someone set your essay on fire?" Neville prodded.

"Something like that...It's really not a problem, though," Draco assured, keeping his voice still and indifferent, "I don't have any real prospects after I'm done school. That's why it's fine if I don't keep my marks up. I'm positive that my vast riches will sustain me until my imminent demise."

Longbottom looked as though he'd been the victim of a harsh Stupefy. Slowly, his face took on an expression of frustration.

"Draco, you're really good at potions," the Gryffindor said, "I mean, really good. Like, I actually learnt something today. Also, I saw you, working with Goyle earlier. You made an entire batch of Oculus Potion, _by yourself_."

"And you know how to grow rue in the same garden as mandrakes," Draco deadpanned, "these aren't innate talents. We're just well practiced. I am knowledgeable in brewing, but all that really means is that I don't have to waste money on low-end, apothecary brand potions."

Longbottom glared at the blonde, and said, "I refuse to believe that you'd just give up on learning more, on mastering potions. You're lying, and not even very well. Do people often set your essays on fire?"

Draco shrugged, "It's not always setting them on fire, or destroying them. Sometimes they just vanish. I'm not the only one. Don't tell me you haven't noticed how terribly Slytherin House is doing this year in house points, or how many times we've been scolded by Professors for not turning in our assignments."

Neville positively gapped at the Slytherin. His brows furrowed, after a moment. Draco turned his attention back to his Charms paper he was finishing. He wondered how long it would take for this one to mysteriously disappear. The blonde also wondered, idly, how long Neville was going to continue with his silence.

"That's not...right. It's not fair."

_Not very long_, Draco noted. He sighed in exasperation, _stupid Gryffindor._

"Perhaps not, but then, Gryffindor ideals have always been rather black and white," Draco said, almost sadly, "and when it comes to duality, there are always those who take it to extremes."

The Gryffindor huffed, and grabbed Draco's left forearm, "It's not right, Draco. It's not, and we should do something... to fix it."

Draco could feel his skin crawl once again from the contact. He couldn't stand to be touched there. It reminded the blonde too much of his _failures, of his father_. The tattoo burned underneath his skin, right to the bone, in to his marrow. Draco let out a hiss of pain.

Neville paled, and removed his hand. He stared in confusion at the Slytherin.

"Do you...are you that afraid of someone touching you?" the Gryffindor asked, looking terribly guilty.

Draco looked down at his almost finished essay. He closed his eyes, and breathed heavily, trying to soothe his nerves.

"It's not that," Draco said, quietly, "I...you just...ugh."

Draco glared and rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the black, ugly imprint of the Dark Mark. The snake moved through the skull and Draco felt like retching from the sensations it caused in his arm. Neville looked pale under the light of the torches.

"Oh," The Gryffindor managed, "I...I forgot. I'm sorry."

Neville looked properly ashamed. Draco felt mildly vindicated.

"It feels...really weird, or terrible, or something, when someone touches it."

"Ah...I'll make sure not to anymore," Neville said, eyes boring in to Draco's earnestly, "I swear it, Draco."

Draco felt somewhat embarrassed. He rolled down his sleeve, and said, "Whatever, Lardbottom."

"Prickly," Neville noted, smiling at Draco apologetically. The blonde narrowed his eyes, but couldn't help the small smile that broke over his face.

~~~_Growing_~~~

Before making their way to the Great Hall for dinner, Draco grabbed Longbottom's arm and tugged him towards the school entrance. Neville complied easily, and laughed. The blonde ignored him in favour of hurrying on ahead, down towards the gardens. The night air was much colder than it had been previously. The light breeze felt sharp against Draco's cheeks. He wrapped his cloak tighter around himself, and pushed on towards his roses.

Once arriving, Draco sat down, once again, before the Risum de Cornix. The blue roses had become deeper, richer in colour. The oldest roses had matured to a size larger than that of his fist. The new buds were growing in well, and the bush itself had grown quite a bit too. Draco breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled and played with on of the deep blue petals.

He heard the Gryffindor arriving shortly after. Draco withdrew his hand and sent Neville a warm smile.

"They've grown," he told the brunette proudly, "it's because I'm such a genius."

"Of course," Longbottom nodded sincerely. Draco searched him for any sign of sarcasm.

The Slytherin cast a Lumos and searched the earth for weeds. A few of the Caedes Cornix has sprouted, but they were tiny things. He easily plucked them out, and cast a quick Incendio on the leeches. He barely flinched at the fire, too preoccupied on checking the soil to make sure the rosebush hadn't any need for water. The earth was colder, but still damp.

Draco pushed himself up off the ground and turned towards Longbottom. The Gryffindor was smiling at him warmly. Draco couldn't help but fling a small stinging hex at him. Neville yelped in surprise, and shot a dark look at the blonde.

"Pfft, if you'd stop looking at me as if I'd hung the moon, that would be fantastic, Lardbottom."

Neville laughed, and grabbed Draco's _right_ arm. He tugged him away from the roses, towards the warmth permeating from the Castle.

"Come on, you skinny little thing," Neville said, ignoring Draco's insistent denials of _svelte not skinny_, "you need some food so you can grow big and strong. Just like your favourite roses."

When they entered the Great Hall, Pansy jumped out at them. Her eyes were wide with worry, and she tugged Draco's arm close to her chest. She looked about to lecture him on the importance of punctuality, when she noticed Longbottom standing awkwardly beside the blonde.

She stilled, and calmly removed her hands from Draco's arm. Pansy approached Neville cautiously. The Slytherin girl seemed to float in front of the Gryffindor. She eyed him for a moment, eyes narrowed in suspicion, before sighing.

"So you were with your pet Gryffindork," Pansy said, staring at Neville as if he'd committed some sort of heinous crime, "I should've known. I was _worried_, Draco. Next time, please inform me when you're going to up and disappear for several _hours_."

Draco shook his head in dismay, and said, "It's hardly been _several_ hours. It was barely three. Don't exaggerate, Pansy."

"Oh yes, and while you were off traipsing around the school like some moronic twit, up to, Salazar knows what kind of Gryffindor foolishness, I had to round up the second years who'd somehow found themselves hung up from several different statues on the second floor."

Draco paled, and grabbed Pansy's arm tightly. She looked at him with a sullen exhaustion.

"Who?" the blonde asked, voice low and dangerous. Pansy shook her head.

"Who knows," she answered, "who cares?"

"Are they alright?" Neville interjected, a dark mask of seriousness taking over his usual gentle manner, "your second years, are they alright?"

Pansy looked at Longbottom in shock. She gulped it back quickly and nodded her head. The Slytherin girl turned to face Draco.

"They're fine. Not even shaken up in the slightest," Pansy explained, "its only... they're miffed because they've lost their chance to study in the library today."

Draco cursed, and rubbed tiredly at his face.

"Parkinson, is it...I mean-"

"I really, really, _really,_" Pansy interrupted, "despise stuttering. Spit it out, Longbottom!"

"How often does this happen? I mean, sabotaging your papers, attacking younger students...and I hear your house even refused to play Quidditch this year."

Draco kicked Neville's shin harshly, trying to get him to stop speaking. Pansy's face had paled, and her hands were closing in to tight fists. She looked at the ground, shoulders haunched. The dark haired girl then glared up resentfully at the Gryffindor.

"It's none of your bloody business, Lardbottom!" she exclaimed, before paling even more. She slapped her hand over her mouth, and retreated quickly.

Draco watched her go. He mulled over the tactlessness of Gryffindors, and the sad state of his House, his friends, his family, and himself. The blonde glared at Neville.

"I...Draco, I didn't know she'd react like that," Neville said, eyes filling with guilt, "I just-look, I said I would help and I meant it. Please, let me help. There has to be a way..."

"Maybe," Draco said, startling the Gryffindor with his agreement, "but you'll not be of any help if you go about it like that. We're not _like you_. We keep to ourselves, and we make _plans_. We scheme, and we gain our advantages through _subtlety_. All that aside...Pansy is _different_ now. We all are. _We've been put in our place_."

Neville looked sadly after Pansy, and said, "That's...Alright. I get it; we're different. But to say _put in your place_ is harsh, Draco."

"Isn't that exactly what you, and yours, have always wanted? We've fallen, and now we _need_ help. But how can you expect us to be grateful, when we have to look to our former enemies for aid?" Draco's tone was bland, and his face was a mask of frozen ice.

Neville looked down at his feet, as if to contemplate their existence. Yet, a moment later, his head snapped up and he looked Draco in the eye with a fiery determination.

"What if we started small?" Neville asked, "you said you need plans, then how about we make one?"

Draco cast a suspicious glance at his classmate. However, he motioned for the Gryffindor to elaborate.

"Well, it's early enough in the year that we could salvage the Slytherin's marks," Neville said, a smile blooming on his face, "we could start with a plan to help your House actually hand in assignments."

Neville's face held such a determination, that Draco couldn't help but feel a slight twinge of hope. It lit up suddenly, and struck him almost as painfully as the intense magic that surrounded the Greenhouse. He looked up at the Gryffindor in awe. The blonde shook himself back to reality a split second later.

"It still leaves the matter of actually coming up with a plan on _how_ exactly we could go about doing that."

"Well, yeah, but...we'll definitely figure something out. I know it. Let's meet up at the Library tomorrow to start brainstorming!" Neville said, enthusiasm filling his voice.

Draco felt the painful hope once more thrumming in his chest. He tried his best to stomp it out, all throughout dinner.

~~~_Growing_~~~

"What if we used some really serious repelling spells on all the Slytherin bags?" Neville asked, looking somewhat impressed with himself.

"No, of course we already do that," Draco said, in a tone that implied utter dissatisfaction, "It doesn't matter though. The spells wear off eventually, and the younger years don't know how to respell them. Also, we can't do that to our actual assignments, we'd end up in a mountain of shit from the Professors who have to grade them."

Longbottom seemed to shrivel up in disappointment. Until another idea struck him.

"How about Wards? Yeah, we could cast a ward on each bag," the Gryffindor put forward, almost desperately, "that way they wouldn't run out. All you'd have to do is only open your bag once, directly in front of the Professor. No one would try to sabotage your assignment then. Merlin, you could even just hand it directly to them."

Draco tapped impatiently on the wooden table with his fingers. He breathed out in frustration. The blonde Slytherin was entirely too exhausted for this. He'd had to mediate Pansy and Blaise all night, who had still been fighting, until finally the girl broke down in to sobs that sent the rest of his lounging Housemates off to their rooms in embarrassment. Draco had had to lead her in to his room, and comfort her as best he could. It had almost been three in the morning by the time Blaise finally cracked, bursting in to Draco's room and gathering up the dark haired girl with mumbled apologies. He rubbed his temples in exasperation.

"Lardbottom, do you know how much magic is needed when creating a ward? Now imagine that, except, these wards would have to be _moveable_. The reason wards are so effective when it comes to stationary objects, like houses or vaults, is because they rely on a constant, and grounded, source of magic." Draco explained, watching as Longbottom deflated even more.

"Even if we could manage the magic...the fact of the matter is, someone would notice. Then they'd ask questions."

Neville nodded, and said, "Subtlety, right. We need something, a solution that's...not so flashy."

"Not so Gryffindor," Draco corrected, with a wry grin.

Neville glared at Draco for a moment, before letting his head thump down on to their wooden table, hidden behind the bookshelves. The Gryffindor let out a groan of frustration. The Slytherin hummed in agreement.

"We're not getting anywhere," Draco told his companion blandly.

Neville remained silent. A few minutes passed, before he raised his head up to lay on his crossed arm. He stared up at Draco with a serious expression. A flush of embarrassment lightly covered the Gryffindor's cheeks.

"What about...Nan told me, when she was a girl, that her family had objects, heirlooms, that only-only _they could touch_," Neville said, voice barely audible, "that it was something most purebloods did...tying it to themselves with...with..."

"Blood," Draco said, rolling his eyes, "it's not some spooky story, Longbottom. Yes, purebloods have quite a few objects that can only be touched by those who share the same blood, and those objects can't be harmed by regular spells, charms, or hexes."

Neville looked slightly relieved at Draco's blasé tone. He almost crowed with victory, before Draco interrupted him once more.

"_However_," Draco said, eyes narrowed to slits to glare at Neville, "not only is it incredibly dangerous, in that serious, sometimes _fatal_, injuries can come from trying to attack a blooded, or blood-warded object...but most of our older years, such as myself, have our wands under surveillance. The younger years have no clue as to how the rituals work, and each family has it's own way of doing it."

"One misstep, one blunder could backfire on the students trying to blood their objects," Neville realised. He sighed, and nodded to Draco.

"I'm not sure what I was thinking...That was a bad idea, even for me."

Draco nodded, "Indeed, but far sneakier than I would've imagined from you. I'm actually somewhat impressed."

Neville beamed at Draco. The blonde coughed nervously, uncomfortable with such open emotional responses. He steadied himself mentally, and stood up. He gathered his things.

"Slughorn's got you brewing late?" Neville asked.

"Yeah, but they should be pretty simple potions. He never gives me the challenging ones."

Neville nodded, and waved Draco off. The blonde walked away, only to stop before he disappeared behind a bookshelf. He glanced back at Longbottom, who was slouching over a few books, reading with a furious determination. Draco felt his twinging hope grow a little more, and he smiled at the sunlit boy when Longbottom glanced up and caught him staring. Longbottom grinned in return, and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment.

~~~_Growing_~~~

It was almost eleven when he finally made it back to the Slytherin common room. There were only a few students left lounging about in the common area. The third years were playing Tarot with a few second years, only a few of the sixth years were hanging about, and the seventh years were all sitting in front of the fire gossiping. Draco made his way towards the large, black leather couches, and sat down heavily in between Pansy and Theo.

"Long day, darling?" Pansy asked, reaching over to pet Draco's hair.

Draco nodded, and drooped his head down to lay on the girl's shoulder. He mumbled incoherently in to her shoulder. Beside him, Draco heard Theodore's soft laughter, before allowing a light sleep to overtake him.

Someone poked him in his side. Draco swatted the offending appendage away, and moved his head deeper in to his soft pillow. He heard a bark of laughter, and the finger returned. The blonde turned to glare, directly in to Blaise's face.

Draco sat up quickly, and realised he'd been lounging with his head in Pansy's lap. He sent the girl an apologetic look, but she shrugged it off.

"How long was I out for?" he asked, the confusion of sleep slowly dissipating.

"Only ten minutes," Theo answered, eyes dancing with laughter.

Blaise was kneeling in front of the couch. He held an expression of severity. Draco looked away, focusing on the fire.

"Draco..." Blaise started, "I wanted to-"

"Don't," Draco said, warding of what was sure to be an apology, "I know. But...you have to trust my judgement. Longbottom-"

"Longbottom is only trying to help," Blaise finished, "I know...I know, but he's still dangerous. Just...I'm trying to understand it. I'll try not to be such an arse about it."

Draco nodded stiffly. Blaise stood up, and moved in to sit beside Pansy, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. The blonde was glad they had made up. It was always such an enormous hassle when they were fighting. Draco looked around the room.

The fourth and second years were still playing their game. The blonde's eyes narrowed, and he caught Aster Parkinson's attention. The younger boy gave an excuse to his friends, and made his way over to the group of Eighth years.

"Hey, Malfoy," Aster said anxiously.

Draco sighed, and said, "Parkinson, you and Astoria should round up the midgets. Get them to bed; it's very much past their bedtimes."

Aster looked somewhat put out, but went back to his group. He and Astoria stood up, and made their way over to the younger years. The rest of the seventh years made their way to their dorms. Astoria and Aster made quick work of gathering their wards, waving goodnight to Draco and his friends.

Once the common room was cleared, Goyle stood up and gathered his belongings. Without saying a word, he made his way to his room. Pansy watched him go in silence.

"He's so quiet..." she noted, voice barely a whisper.

Blaise sighed heavily, and pulled Pansy up with him. He sent Draco and Theo a nod.

"You two, don't stay up too late," Blaise said, grinning mischievously. Pansy poked her boyfriend in the gut, violently. The dark skinned Slytherin grumbled as they made their way to his room.

Draco watched them go angrily, feeling the tension slowly rising in the room. He leaned back against the couch for a moment, before sitting up and beginning to gather his things. Theo's hand gently landed on top of Draco's. The blonde stilled. He kept his eyes strained on the green and silver rug at his feet.

"Draco," Theo said, in hushed tones.

Draco could feel his anxiety amassing in his throat. _Too much_, the blonde thought,_ it's too much_.

"Theo, _stop_."

The brunette shook his head. His fingers tightened around Draco's, as he said, "Draco, please stop ignoring me. I just want...I just want us to go back, back to the way things were."

"I told you-"

"Yeah, you told me. You told me and warned me, but I think," the boy said, "I think that should be my choice. I don't care about any of it. Yes, it's hard, it's really hard, knowing that you still have to go through a-a _trial_ for your _life_. And I'm _scared_. I thought...I thought we were going to lose you. For two years, I thought that. I was scared _every day_. But- Draco you have to know that I lo-"

"Don't!" Draco cried, snatching his hand back to his body as if he'd been burnt, "_don't you dare say it_. This...it's too much, and you-you can't expect me to go back to how it was before. What if I get the _Kiss_? I can't put you-anyone through that..."

Theo reached out again, this time touching gently at Draco's fair hair. He twirled a pale, blonde lock around his index finger.

"Even if you ignore it, it's still the way I feel," Theo said, calmly and full of resolve, "everyone-_everyone_ knows it. You know it. Just...stop running. Look at me, please just...look. I want you to see me."

Draco gulped. He tried to ignore the swelling in his chest, and the short breathes coming in and out of his nose. The blonde could feel the gentle fingers running through his hair. _So familiar, so warm, so safe_.

He raised his grey eyes to look in to Theodore's. Warmth filled his stomach. Theodore smiled, and leaned forward. _Closer, closer_.

Suddenly, there was a loud banging noise at the Entrance. Someone was hitting loudly on the outside of the stone wall. The two Slytherins sprung apart. Draco rose, and swiftly made his way to the Slytherin entrance. Nott followed him shortly after. Draco eased the Entrance open.

Outside stood an out of breath, and widely grinning Neville Longbottom. When the Gryffindor's eyes landed on Draco, he let out a large bellow of elated laughter, and swung in, grabbing the blonde. He hoisted him in to a tight embrace, and swung the smaller boy around in joy.

"I found it!" Neville cried, "I've found our solution, Draco!"

Theo coughed, signaling his presence. Draco looked at him, once more making eye contact. The other Slytherin appeared confused, but mildly amused. Draco blinked, and looked up at the overgrown Gryffindor who had pulled away to find the source of the noise.

"Longbottom," Theodore acknowledged politely.

"Nott," Neville said, with a nod of his head.

"And I'm Draco Malfoy," the blonde said, somewhat amused, "glad we all know each other. Why are you here, Lardbottom? It's nearly midnight."

Neville's grin came back with a fury. He grabbed the blonde by his shoulders and shook him, saying, "I know what to do! I know how we can stop the sabotages!"

Theo and Draco shared a confused look.

~~~_Growing_~~~

"Your Gryffindork is late, Draco," Theo said with a smile.

Draco glared at his housemate, and thrummed his fingers against the wooden table. Theo had followed him to the Library, after Transfigurations. The blonde had agreed to meet up with Neville after class to hear the Gryffindor's plan. He had tried to wheedle Longbottom's scheme out of him in the Slytherin dorms, but they'd been interrupted by a glaring Zabini.

Neville appeared suddenly, from behind one of the bookshelves. He was grinning. Theo looked up and waved cautiously. The blonde sent them both dirty looks, before rolling his eyes.

"Sit, Longbottom," Draco ordered, "let's hear this brilliant scheme of yours."

The Gryffindor scrambled to do as he was told. He took the seat beside Theo, placing his bag on the table in a hurry. He opened the bag and rifled through it. Finally, Longbottom seemed to find what he was looking for, removing two large pieces of parchment, and his quill and ink. He handed one of the pieces of parchment off to Theodore.

Theodore took the proffered object with a look of confusion. He turned it over to examine it, but it was simply a regular piece of paper. Neville grinned. Theodore put the parchment down on the table, beside the other, identical one.

"That, is how we're going to stop the attacks on your House's assignments," the Gryffindor said smugly.

"Erm, Longbottom, are you daft? It's just a regular-"

"But, Nott, let me finish," the Gryffindor said eagerly, leaning forward in excitement, "my plan has two parts."

Draco nodded, feeling slightly out of the loop. He motioned for Neville to continue.

"First, these parchments," he said, waving a hand over the two laying side by side on the table, "I got the idea from a couple muggleborn First Years. They were talking about a device that allows them to send messages, no matter the distance, to another device, all the while saving the original copy."

Draco exchanged an uncomfortable and confused look with Theodore. _Muggle devices?_ Neville ignored it blithely. The Gryffindor began to write his name on his parchment.

"We," Neville said, motioning between the three wizards, "don't have need for that...because, well...Magic. But, say, for instance, we were to create a connection between two separate pieces of parchment, like a two way mirror, or more like charmed correspondence notebooks, then-"

"Then, we could safely write one version of the text on the original copy, and even if that copy is destroyed, the duplicate still exists," Theodore finished, eyes wide as he watched Neville's name appear on his piece of parchment, "it's so incredibly simple."

Draco scoffed, and said, "Yes, simple, but you're forgetting how much magic would be needed, how much time it would take, to constantly create a bond between every parchment each student needs in Slytherin House. We won't be able to keep it up."

Theodore deflated, and sighed. He pushed the parchment back to Longbottom. However, Neville grinned, and once again dug in to his bag. He pulled out what appeared to be a large journal, held together loosely by wires on three separate parts of its spine. Draco blinked at it. The paper was _so white_.

"It's a muggle notebook," Neville explained, "They're incredibly cheap, and the paper is, by far, much slimmer than ours. They'll last much longer than any journals, or even rolls of parchment we have. That way-"

"We'd only have to create the bonds a few times," Draco finished, eyeing the notebook with a mixed look of distaste and awe.

Neville nodded, and grinned, digging, once again in to his sac. He took out an incredibly shiny piece of paper, and handed it to Draco. The blonde looked it over. It was a flyer for a muggle store which sold the notebooks by bulk. He sighed in defeat, handing the flyer off to Theo.

Theo glanced up at Draco, having finished reading the flyer.

"This is going to work," the Slytherin said with a large smile, "Longbottom, you simple genius, you actually came up with a plan."

Longbottom laughed, and turned to catch Draco's eye. Draco sat in a daze, mulling over the simplicity of such a scheme. He came to a conclusion.

"It will work," Draco agreed, "thank you, Longbottom."

Neville grinned, and reached up to rub awkwardly at his neck. Theo stood up in a hurry, he too was grinning madly. The dark haired Slytherin gathered his things.

"I'll go place the orders. They should arrive by Friday," Theodore said to the other two students, "Then we can start on Saturday with the bondings. It's Greengrass and I on for collecting the food in the morning, so let's meet sometime around noon."

"We'll meet at the Greenhouse," Draco said with a firm nod. Neville laughed, and nodded as well.

Theodore was about to leave, but he stopped and turned to face Longbottom. Neville glanced wearily up at the other boy. Theodore held out his right hand.

"Thank you, Longbottom."

Neville looked somewhat shocked, but collected himself quickly enough. He shook the proffered hand with a small smile.

~~~_Growing_~~~

Draco filled the watering can to it's half point. He twisted the tap off, and hulled the can out of the basin. He heard Neville rummaging through a few drawers, still unable to find his gardening gloves. The blonde stifled a laugh and amused himself by watching the Gryffindor scramble about the Greenhouse in a flurry of irritation.

Smirking, the blonde placed his watering can on a cleared part of a table. He pulled out his wand and cast an Accio. The gloves flew straight in to his hands. Neville turned around and blushed in embarrassment.

"You _are_ a Wizard, Lardbottom," Draco said, handing the gloves off. He picked up his can and walked off towards the Greenhouse exit. He made his way towards the upper gardens, laughing all the while at Gryffindor stupidity.

Autumn was fast approaching, and the ground surrounding the Risum de Cornix was cold and dry. He watered the earth, wondering if casting a heating charm would cause the weeds to grow faster. He'd have to ask Longbottom.

The blue rosebush was absolutely gorgeous. It was stronger than it had ever been, and its roses were all reaching maturity. Draco felt a swelling of pride in his chest.

Once he had returned to the Greenhouse, he set the watering can back in its place. The blonde sat down at a stool and watched as Longbottom set about his work with the mandrakes. It was if the Gryffindor was absolutely in his element. He unthinkingly measured and tested the soil, removed a few wilted leaves, and turned the earth.

Draco felt at peace. He lowered his head on to his hands and continued to observe.

Neville moved on to the shrivelfigs. He plucked the mature ones without a second guess, setting them aside in a basin already filled with steaming water. In the holes of the plucked shrivelfigs, he dropped a few seeds and filled the holes with new soil.

The door to the Greenhouse opened, and Theodore Nott walked in. Neville waved at the newcomer without diverting his attention from the seeds. Draco lifted his head, and waved his friend over. The other Slytherin was levitating a few boxes, full of the muggle notebooks, behind him. He floated them over to a cleared out table, and dropped them gracefully.

"Sorry I'm late," Nott said, checking the boxes to make sure the notebooks were okay, "Daphne talks too much. It takes a long time to get anything done with her."

"Astoria's much better at taking directives," Draco said agreeably. Theodore nodded, and began unloading the notebooks.

Neville, finished with his work with the shrivelfigs, moved over to help Nott unload. Draco smiled, and stood. He walked over to the two, but took a seat at the table, and opened the book he'd acquired from the Library on Bonding, turning it to the proper page. _They can do the heavy lifting_, Draco thought with a sneer.

Once the process of unloading was finished, Nott and Longbottom went about organizing the notebooks in pairs of two. Draco began drawing small, intricate designs with a white chalk. He then drew a large circle around the smaller ones in salt. The blonde lit a few candles, each white, and placed them at four separate ends of the circle.

The blonde grounded himself, trying to remove any thoughts from his mind, and drew his wand. He began chanting and the drawings lit up.

"Alright," Draco said once he was done, "let's start with the first pair."

Neville brought the pair to Draco, who placed them in the circle. The process would take about ten minutes for each pair of bindings.

"It's going to be a long day," Theodore said with a sigh.

~~~_Wilting_~~~

"So...how do you think the others will react when we give them _muggle_ notebooks?" Theo asked tiredly.

Draco shrugged, carefully levitating one of the boxes through the dungeon corridors. He and Theo had parted with Longbottom after a rather long and exhausting day of spellwork. The blonde was famished, and the other Slytherin boy could barely manage to levitate his box, instead sharing the weight between actually holding the box and levitating.

"I mean, Zabini definitely won't be happy," Nott continued.

"He'll get over it. Blaise wants to pass his NEWTs," Draco answered through a yawn.

They stopped in front of the Slytherin Entrance, but before Draco could speak the password, Theo spoke again.

"I...well, I wanted to talk to you about what happened before Longbottom showed up. You seemed-"

"Nott, I have been performing the exact same ritual all day. I am far, _far_ too exhausted to hold any conversation of that sort as of right now. I need food, and I need to sleep for four days. I do not need to speak about my _feelings_."

Theodore laughed lightly. He nodded to Draco.

"Well, Longbottom sure is helpful, even if he barges in on important moments."

Draco cast Theodore a dry look, and spoke the password. The stone wall jumped apart, and the two of them entered their common room.

It took one moment for Draco to realise something was off.

None of the younger years were in the common room. The only students hanging around were the Seventh years, Astoria, Aster, and Lancel. Astoria was kneeling on the ground beside the couch, hands covering her eyes. Beside her, Lancel Craster and Aster Parkinson were murmuring something and trying to soothe her loud wails.

Goyle sat in front of the fire, crossed legged. He was pale and looked almost ghostlike in the glow of the fire. The boy was mouthing words to himself. Standing near his side, drawn up and frozen, staring at Draco with wide, guilty, brown eyes, was Pansy. Blaise was sitting at one of the tables, knuckles bloody and ignoring everyone around him.

Draco felt an apprehensive fear bloom deep in his gut. He stood stalk still as he waited...waited for someone to say something. Both of the arriving Slytherins dropped their boxes on to the ground. The blonde was waiting for someone to _tell him what had happened_.

"What's going on?" Theodore's voice was taunt with nerves.

Pansy crept forward, eyes never straying from Draco's. Once she stood in front of him, she seemed to mouth the words and shrink in on herself. All Draco could hear was the crackling of the fire, popping, burning, _consuming_.

"It's the First Years."

* * *

Cliffffffhaaaaanger? Erm, maybe... Sorry about that. This chapter is really long, and I had to cut it off somewhere.

I hope you enjoyed! Please read and review!

~Pip


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